


Broken Wings

by NadoHunter



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: (as an antagonist), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, F/M, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Paranormal, Resurrection, Slow Burn, Wingfic, paranormal elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 20:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18212948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadoHunter/pseuds/NadoHunter
Summary: "Some legends say that wings were gifted to humanity to bring them closer to heaven. It made it very easy for some to claim to be flightless was to be cut off from god, and to be forever completely rejected from salvation in the afterlife."Bruce hasn't been able to fly for a very long time - That's never stopped him from fighting or becoming Batman.Can he ever recover? And what happens when your presented with an opportunity to try and regain everything you've ever lost?





	1. Belonging

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as just a drawing I did for actual aesthetics, then I ended up creating a whole plot and antagonist for it. (oops)  
> I'm pretty nervous about sharing my first fic for this fandom - I'm open to any comments and critiques going forward so I can learn!

Some legends say that wings were gifted to humanity to bring them closer to heaven. It made it very easy for some to claim to be flightless was to be cut off from god, and to be forever completely rejected from salvation in the afterlife.

Scientists say that winged beings had an evolutionary advantage due to a period of time long long ago when dangerous predators roamed the earth and climbed some of the tallest trees.

Some very “creative” people claimed wings were something given to people exactly 1,000 years ago by an alien dark lord named Urrox who would one day return to save them all once they’ve proven themselves worthy.

Bruce stirred in his sleep, harshly awoken to a harsh chill running up his spine and ripping him from the few precious hours of rest he had tried to force himself to claim. He opened one ice silvery-blue eye and grumbled as he pulled his head from the pillow he had collapsed into. It was now decorated with a lovely drool stain that teased him with the prospect of the deep restful sleep he had just been pulled from. He looked around at his dark over-sized bedroom briefly as he rubbed his neck and stared at the blankets that now littered the floor. With a huff he turned to look over his shoulder and give a scathing gaze to the culprit… or rather _culprits_ that had cast every bit of warmth from his body.

His own wings seemed to droop as if they had a mind of their own. A mind that Bruce was sure was dead set on making him as miserable and _cold_ as possible. He looked at his phone that sat innocently on his bedside table. One glance and that light would rush into his eyes making it all the harder to attempt to fall back to sleep, but he reached over and grabbed it anyway, clicking it on to reveal a recent photo of him and his first adopted son – Dick Grayson - that Dick had insisted they take together. His eyes then fell on the time.

3:55 AM

“ _Wonderful. A full hour of sleep. Has to be a record.”_ He thought sarcastically turning off his phone and rubbing his hands over his face.

He knew he was going to face a disappointed and worried look from Alfred. He tried to yank his covers back up over his form, but his mind had already begun to stir, already begun to pace over cases to solve, upcoming meetings – promises he made he intended to keep for once.

He leapt off his king sized bed, his wings dragging on the ground behind him like a loose cape that hung off his shoulder blades.

He stalked into the bathroom, flipping the light on and grimacing at the sudden bright lights that invaded his retinas.

The warmth of the water that his back as he put the shower on was more than welcome to chase away the bitter cold from his body.

He watched as a single black feather that had fallen from his wingspan circled the drain before stopping as it became caught in the metal. Bruce bent down and gingerly picked it up, rolling the wet feather in his hand and absentmindedly.

His wings had been described as beautiful before, and maybe once he could have believed that. Not anymore, not since the things that were supposed to protect him, supposed to keep him connected to everyone else, and let him soar into the clouds had failed him on _that_ day – and failed him ever since then. He would never know the feeling of the wind whipping at his face as he flew through the sky ever again because of them.

He gripped the feather in his hand, feeling its delicate form snap and bend inside his fist, and carelessly tossed it into the waste bin on his way out of the bathroom.

 

\----

 

Alfred, Bruce’s ever loyal and caring Butler that had been there for him his whole life - watched with weary eyes as Bruce stalked into the kitchen to fetch some coffee. Being the way that he was, he had already prepared some with the knowledge it was unlikely that Bruce would get any sleep at all.

No matter how much he _hoped_ he’d allow himself rest, Alfred knew quite well that was naive of him to still believe in. All the hope in the world couldn’t make _Batman_ rest.

"Trouble sleeping again Master Bruce?" He asked in a hushed voice.

Bruce nodded and sipped his coffee with a slight grunt. "Had a chill, damned things knocked my covers off again." He complained, curling said "damned things" up against his back.

"Perhaps you would have an easier time with them if you weren't so rude to them." Alfred quipped, pulling several eggs out to cook an early breakfast.

Even if Bruce wasn’t going to sleep he was going to make damn sure he had a proper meal.

"What have they ever done for me?" Bruce rolled his eyes with a huff - which Alfred recognized as Bruce's way of showing mild amusement even if his lips didn't curl up for many things these days.

"There's a league meeting today anyway, it's fine." Bruce said nonchalantly, trying to shrug off Alfred's look of slight disapproval that even know as an adult still managed to make the man feel a bit sheepish and guilty.

"Oh certainly, it's always good to be up and ready seven hours in advance." Alfred replied without hesitation.

“I _do_ always like to be prepared.” Bruce said raising his coffee mug in a mock toast before smirking and stalking off to his cave.

Alfred frowned down at the pan of eggs that were nearly done, knowing he’d have to follow that man down all those stairs into the cave just to get him to eat. Calmly, he plated them along with fresh fruits and a few sausages.

On his way he stepped on something that gave a slight crunch under his foot. Balancing the tray with the breakfast on it effortlessly with one hand, he bent down and picked up a decently sized black feather… and soon realized several more were scattered along the floor leading down to the cave.

 

\-----------

 

Once again, Superman and Wonder Woman were flying without Batman.

“ _I’ll meet you there.”_ Batman had said firmly before turning his back to them.

“ _Batman, wouldn’t it be better for us to go together?”_   Superman had said hopefully.

“ _Is it urgent for me to be there right away?”_

“ _Well, no… but…”_

_“Then go, I have to get a solid grasp on the readings up here first.”_

Clark bit his lip, staring at the ground below him for any sign of what could have been causing the strange energy readings the picked up in the watchtower satellite could have come from – but he was far from focused.

“Superman?” Diana asked, peering up at him from her flight path slightly below him.

Batman _never_ flew with them or anyone else in the league. He would have thought that by now even someone like Bruce would trust them enough… trust _him_ enough to want to…

“ _Kal!_ ” Wonder Woman called right next to him, touching his shoulder to more insistently to knock the man out of his thoughts.

“Huh? What, did you see something?” He asked, scanning around trying to act like he had been paying attention.

Diana rolled her eyes and stopped her flight path, flapping her brown, gold and white spotted wings so she ‘hovered’ slightly in the air. Clark joined her out of concern for her suddenly stopping, though his gold and white wingspan was so massive it was hard for him to stay in one place by flapping, but one of his many abilities seemed to be the ability to hover to some degree and move faster and in ways that wouldn’t come naturally to any human.

“You’re unfocused. What’s on your mind?” Diana demanded more than _asked_ , crossing her arms.

“I’m not…” Superman began to argue but quickly found himself shutting his mouth as soon as he met Wonder Woman’s eyes. She only had to raise her eyebrows slightly for him to back down from his defensive stance.

“It’s just Batman.” He admitted huffing and gliding in slight circles upside down around her thoughtfully before pausing again. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“I’m sure he has his reasons.” The reasonable Diana replied very sure of herself. Though she then slowly closed her eyes and sighed. “But yes, it bothers me too.”

Clark relaxed his shoulders once it had been confirmed he wasn’t the only one feeling put down by Batman’s seeming refusal to share even one flight with his friends.

“I mean… we’re a team, we’ve all know each other long enough, right? Does…” Superman stopped right in the middle of his small rant, the thought had crossed his mind many times but he had never considered dwelling on it too long, and certainly not saying it out loud. He finally choked it out after a moment of struggling to allow the intrusive feelings to spill from his gut. “Does he just… not actually like us? What if he’s just _using_ us, or he doesn’t actually care?”

Diana shook her head and put a hand on his shoulder. “Everything in me tells me that’s not the case. Bruce is…” She paused and looked up towards the sky in exasperation “ _hard_ to read, but I could never believe he could have _that_ level of distaste for us.”

They heard a few screams from the city down below them and immediately put their conversation on the back burner, speeding down to the source of the scream. They found a man on the ground trembling and covering his eyes.

Diana reached out to the man who flinched at first before growing wide eyed as he saw who it was. “Sir, it’s alright. We’re here to help.” She said calmly as she pulled him up to his feet.

Superman looked around, not immediately seeing any sign of a panic. “What did you see?”

The man looked even more startled as his head snapped around, eyes scanning all over wildly. “Wha… it was just there, I saw it! I swear!” He choked out, gripping at his own shirt like it was the only thing keeping him in one piece.

“Saw _what_?” Diana asked again a little more insistently.

Superman whipped his head around as he heard another woman yell in surprise, the man followed the sound as well and yelped again soon after. “ _That!”_

They couldn’t blame the civilians for reacting in such a panicked way as more and more noticed the figure that stood - or rather seemed to _float_ right there in the middle of the sidewalk. It was a shadow of something like a human form, with gaping white holes for eyes and a fuzzy white aura that gave off a slight glow despite the negative pitch black space within its form. More of what was so startling about it was the feeling that settled like rotten milk in Superman and Wonder Woman’s stomachs as they gazed at it, waiting for whatever it was to make a first move. Both of them were struck by the incredible sense of panic that bit at the back of their minds like rabid dogs that whatever this was it wasn’t _supposed_ to be there. Something about it caused an insatiable feeling that it shouldn’t be seen.

Superman nearly jumped and threw a punch as he suddenly became aware of a dark presence next to him, only to stop himself once he realized it was Batman who had seemingly caught up with them right out of nowhere.

“Is it attacking? I heard screams.” He asked, slowly raising his fists and arching his back in case he needed to fight.

Superman slowly shook his head. “No… it’s just… standing there.”

The figure slowly turned and glided towards them.  It kept a steady pace, not seeming threatened or nervous - nor like it meant to attack.

Clark decided to cautiously walk towards it. It struck him that perhaps this was just a new being that didn’t mean any harm, and he should make a good impression or attempt diplomacy.

“Hello? can you understand m-?“ Clark began to ask, seemingly going in with an outstretched arm in a friendly gesture to meet the being’s stride -only to freeze as the being continued straight and passed right through him and continued wandering down the street.

“Superman! Are you okay?” Batman asked rushing over to the perfectly still man scanning over him quickly.

Clark looked rather uncannily like a marble statue for a moment, lips curled slightly and jaw locked before he slowly began to move and slowly curled around himself, holding his own arms and pulling his wings around his form, hiding himself in a sort of standing cocoon. 

“Kal?” Diana asked attentively reaching towards him, sharing in Batman’s worry. She only took her eyes off Superman for a moment to look back at the unassuming being that seemed to just continue floating down the sidewalk.

Superman stayed still, Batman’s heart stopped for a moment when he realized the other man was shaking. In a slight panic – though of course being Batman his worried panic manifested with a scowl and gritted teeth – he put a cautious hand on Superman’s shoulder, only to realize he was suddenly very cold to the touch.Even through his glove the skin underneath registered as inhumanly icy.

“He’s freezing.” Batman said out loud almost needing to confirm it to himself more than anyone else. One of the few key that marked Clark as not being human was his core body temperature to be decently higher than the average humans. Bruce had theorized in past it might have something to do with the fact that he received a lot of power from the sun itself. For Superman to be freezing cold to the touch in any situation would send anyone who knew him at all into a panic.

Diana’s eyes darted to him in horror. “ _Freezing?_ But he’s...”

“I know.” Batman grimaced before slightly nudging him towards Wonder Woman. Clark was still breathing, even if it was slow measured breaths as the man stared forward – completely unblinking. “Get him up into direct sunlight, I’m going to follow that thing and try to keep bystanders out of its path while I try to see what I can learn about it.” He ordered firmly, making himself let go of Clark’s shoulder as he began to sprint after the strange specter that had caused Superman to look so shaken. “If there are any more everyone should know not to make physical contact until we know more.”

“Got it. I’ll contact J’onn and update him too, see if he can find anyone in the league who might know something as well.” Wonder Woman added as she put an arm under Superman’s and effortlessly pulled the stiff man up onto her shoulder.

“Good idea.” Batman called back as he caught up with the shadow being that was still making its slow walk down the street.

Diana took off quickly leaving Batman who spread his arms and wings out a few paces in front of the being and barked to any civilians “Do _not_ get near it!” A few people that hadn’t been paying attention flew up and far away from it, parents grabbing their children. He had to knock a man who had been completely phased out staring at his phone with headphones in out of the way as he walked. The man was furious for a split second before he stumbled back and immediately started recording the occurrence.

Batman pressed a hand to the communicator in his cowl as he continued to walk backwards a few paces in front of the thing to keep his eyes on it. “Alfred, can you hear me?” He mumbled quietly.

“Loud and clear sir, is everything all right?” Alfred’s voice crackled slightly through his ear piece. Bruce wondered why he was going through to Alfred so clearly but his voice sounded so distant and slightly broken up in his ear.

“ _Must have damaged the earpiece and not noticed…”_ He thought, deciding he would check it back in the cave.

“I need to give you a visual of what I’m seeing. I’m not sure what it is, my first guess is some sort of energy being. It walked right through Superman. He’s incredibly cold to the touch and seems shell-shocked. I had Diana get him out of here.” Bruce explained slowly.

He heard Alfred take off and move swiftly into the batcave to take a seat at the batcomputer where he turned on the connection between the computer and the camera in the batsuit.

“Good _lord_ sir, looks right out of a horror film.” Alfred nearly fell over in his chair at the sight of the thing. “Suitably the only immediate results are cryptids and paranormal sightings.”

“Paranormal.” Bruce grimaced. The idea of the dead getting up to wander around again in any circumstance  was not a thought he _ever_ liked to dwell on.

Just then, the figure stopped. Seemingly crackling like static on an old TV like its connection with reality was fizzling out. It suddenly staggered, keeling over as it fell to the ground. Bruce quickly realized it was mimicking a movement like it had just been shot.

“Perhaps… it is a specter reliving its last moments.” Alfred pondered in his ear as the black and white form fell to the ground, the dark slowly becoming overrun with the white speckled glow before fading out of existence like it was never even there.

Bruce slowly nodded in agreement despite knowing Alfred couldn’t very well see him nod.

“Are you alright master Bruce?” Alfred asked slowly.

Bruce’s wings drooped as he stared forward at where the specter had been. Ignoring Alfred’s question he contacted Diana.

“It’s gone, is Superman alright?” He asked in a dull monotone.

“He’s… coming around. He’s not cold anymore but..”

“I’m okay… I’m okay… just…” Clark’s voice suddenly came over the intercom, Bruce could hear the shaky-ness in he voice as he struggled to form a coherent sentence but allowed himself a sigh of relief at hearing the other man speak.

“It stopped and fell to the ground like it had been sh… _attacked_ then vanished.” Batman explained moving out of the public street. He reached over his shoulder, gripping onto his left wing and scanned around to be sure no more specters were wandering around as he did.

“Not to interrupt, but I’ve been speeding around and I’m seeing several more all over metropolis, I’m doing my best to move people out of the way.” The Flash’s voice joined in on the intercom. “Should we call Ghostbusters?” Barry added after a pause, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Batman rolled his eyes while Diana snickered.

“If only. I’d rather not deal with Ghosts.” Batman quipped in return.

“That would certainly _explain_ it…” Superman said, still very slow in his response but significantly more coherent.

“What happened to you?” Diana asked. “To us it looked like you just stopped... _functioning._ ”

“I’m having trouble putting it into words. It was just so _cold_ . I suddenly  felt so - _miserable_. Not even just that, It was like I came into contact with something I shouldn’t have.”

“Alfred suggested it could have been a spirit relieving its last moments based on the way it moved before vanishing. You may have felt what it had been feeling at the time.” Bruce hypothesized.

Even if Clark was physically unharmed he hated the idea of someone like _him_ having to feel anything like that. Seeing _Superman_ shake like that was as jarring and terrifying as watching an earthquake. Seeing earth and rock that seemed so _solid_ and _stable_ and _safe_ suddenly ripple like water and break apart was something deeply unbelievable and unsettling.

Hesitantly he made himself ask: “Clark…  are you sure your okay?”

“Yeah… yeah I’ll be alright, thanks B. I’ll meet you back up at the tower.” Superman muttered.

“Roger that.” Bruce was unconvinced, but it wasn’t as if he was in any place to judge Clark for not wanting to admit to being very much not okay.

\----

The core member meeting back in the Justice League watchtower had everyone bringing up more questions than answers. Apparently the magic users like Zatanna and Constantine had reported to not ever really witnessing dead spirits showing up like that randomly - Constantine specifically that it was less of a matter of someone bringing the dead back to life as much as someone just lifting the veil so the living could see what was already there.

“Is this some like M. Night Shyamalan Sixth Sense kind of stuff going on?” Green Lantern suggested. “Cause if that’s the case, we should be glad those things weren’t more clear otherwise we would have had a _lot_ of traumatized people on our hands.”

“That isn’t just what happens when you die, is it? Just relive the same moment over and over?” Barry asked, bouncing his knee in accordance with his inability to sit still.

“I would hope not.” Bruce mumbled - not necessarily meaning to say it out-loud. The thought of his parents reliving their death… or _Jason_ … he clenched at his chest as he tried to force his mind to stay on track.

“In that movie the dead people reliving their last moments were going about it because they didn’t even realize they were dead.” Hal pointed out.

“Would you stop bringing up that damn movie that you _spoiled_ for me?” Barry bit back.

“Your still mad about that Flash?!” Hal bit back with a ruffle his dark brown feathers. “Come on, it’s a 20 year old movie man! Everyone knows about that twist ending!”

“I don’t care! I didn’t know, and it ruined the whole thing for me!” Barry grumbled back raising his orangey-red wings that seemed to perfectly fit his speedster nature.

“ _Focus_. Both of you.” Batman growled causing Barry to jump and Hal to glare daggers at the dark knight.

“Superman, you haven’t said anything this whole time… are you sure you're al-” Wonder Woman began before Clark quickly interrupted her.

“I’m _fine_.” He barked suddenly.

Even Bruce took a few steps back upon seeing the look on Diana’s face from Clark taking such a petulant tone with her. She looked about ready to crush his head in her fist.

“ _She could probably do it too.”_ Batman thought.

Superman immediately furrowed his brows and looked guilty from his sudden outburst. “I’m… sorry I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“Now I _know_ something is wrong. I expect that kind of attitude from Batman but _never_ from _you_.” Diana said dropping her voice into a threatening tone as she slowly crossed his arms.

Batman would have been protested any other day to her bite at Superman at his expense,  but now didn’t seem like the time.

Superman slowly sunk down into his seat before leaning on the meeting table and putting his head in his hands. “I’m still a little shaken up I guess. It’s just… I felt him dying, and I don’t know… it was suddenly like someone I _knew_ was dying.”

Diana’s gaze softened right as Bruce’s heart sank into his chest. Batman slowly stood up and crossed over to Superman, whose gaze snapped to him, watching the dark knight’s movements very carefully.

Slowly he put a hand on the man of steel’s shoulder and knelt down so he could look up at him.

“Clark, I’m not always the best person to offer comfort - but you _can_ always come talk to me if you need to.” He said quietly.

As he watched the man’s brilliant blue eyes regain some of their shine since the incident. His thoughts drifted back to those horrible few years right after his parents death. Perhaps the only thing saving him from drowning in his own  mind and memories was Alfred acting as his caretaker, and always reaching a hand out to him to lift him back up out of that dark place.

He only hoped reaching a hand out and offering the same thing to Clark wouldn’t drag him into the dark with him.

Regardless, Superman slowly smiled at him. “Thanks B, I appreciate it.”

He finally stood up, Batman following in suite as Clark returned to more a ‘leader’ kind of stance, expression turning more serious.

“I’m not happy about what I experienced, but I’d rather it be me than civilians minding their own business, or someone who's already experienced trauma running into that. All of us need to be hyper vigilant, and any sign of those strange energy readings will demand immediate action.”

Flash was the first to stand up with an eager smile. “I was already planning on doing a couple marathons around the earth today, I’ll make sure to keep my eyes peeled!”

“Good. I’ll continue to keep contact with Zatanna and Constantine in case more information becomes available on their end.” Batman added.

“If there’s nothing more anyone has to add for the time being - the meeting is adjourned.” Wonder Woman said with a soft side, standing up.

The trinity stayed behind as the rest of the core members filtered out. Diana glanced at Bruce with a playful smile and a raised eyebrow.

“What do you know? There is some warmth inside that ice cold heart of yours.” She said nudging his shoulder with a soft mock-punch.

“I think you're imagining things.” Bruce replied, his scowl coming out as more of a smirk despite his best efforts.

Superman returned Batman’s previous gesture by placing his own hand on the Bat’s shoulder and softly squeezing. “In all seriousness, that really meant a lot to me B.”

“I may try very hard not to let a lot of things affect me, but I do understand that _some_ things shouldn’t be handled alone.”

They all shared a calm smile, a peaceful moment that was precious in what always seemed to be a never ending battle.

  
  
  



	2. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Convincing a Bat to relax

“Hey Bruce-man, you left a bunch of feathers on the stairs.” Tim called over to the man that was already sat at the batcomputer, hyper-focused on the video footage of the “ghosts” that hadn’t appeared again for a week now - but were still prominent in everyone’s minds.

Bruce blinked a few times, not realizing his eyes had started to become dry as he worked and slowly turned towards Tim - the newest robin, who was currently struggling to fit on the boots of the suit.

“I think you’ve grown again.” Bruce commented with a slight amused huff before standing and looking towards the stairs, furrowing his brows as he realized Tim wasn’t joking about all the feathers he had left splayed out all over the stairs and the floor of the bat cave.

Tim followed his gaze and walked up next to him. “Did you break a lot of them recently or something?”

“Alfred’s not going to be happy.” Bruce responded. Dodging the question with a grimace.

Tim looked up at his mentor with an amused smile. “ _ That’s _ what you’re worried about?”.

Bruce looked down at him and ruffled his hair. “I don’t like to worry him.”

“Hate to break it to you Batman, but the ship has sailed on that one.” Robin quipped back.

“And why exactly would I be worried?” Alfred’s voice coming from the top of the steps made Bruce suddenly jump in surprise.

Tim couldn’t help laughing, clutching his ribs as he did so. Even with all his training and the whole “vengeance” and “being the night” thing, Alfred still had the ability to completely catch the dark knight off guard.

Bruce grimaced as Alfred’s eyes scanned along the batcave floor and up the stairs before bending down and picking up a feather before beginning to pace down rather nonchalantly.

“Stretch your wings out for me Master Bruce, if you would please.” Alfred said firmly, eyes still fixated on the feather.

Bruce hesitated for only moment, earning him a stern glare from his father figure. He slowly stretched out his wings, wincing slightly at the stinging pain that seemed to really want to rear its ugly head in his left wing today.

Alfred walked up to his wingspan, placing his hand on a spot that Bruce had only recently been able to remove bandages from. During a league mission a little over a month ago, he had managed to get pinned down by a spear that had torn right through his wingspan. He had been grateful it had missed important bones and muscles, but it had managed to break a blood feather. He was lucky he was able to muscle through the fight and not experience too much blood loss. The more ‘lasting’ damaged had been a rather unappealing bare spot where the broken feathers had fallen off. Though it did give him another easy excuse to lie to Clark and Diana about why he refused to fly with them.

“Your feathers are growing back here just fine, so that’s not the problem.” Alfred ran his hand along Bruce’s left wing, but stopped suddenly when a perfectly healthy - unbroken feather fell off into his hand way to easy.

Tim had stopped laughing at this point and was looking up at Bruce with wide eyes, occasionally darting his gaze over to the lost feather. Even Bruce who had never cared much for his wings was a bit startled by just how easily it had come off.

“That’s… not supposed to happen, is it?” Tim asked, thinking out-loud.

Alfred stared at it, leaving the pair in an uncomfortable silence for far too long before slowly taking a deep breath.

“No… no it’s certainly not normal.” He turned a scrutinous gaze towards the man who had been slowly taking a few steps back as if trying to creep away. “Master Bruce, I  _ must _ insist you begin taking better care of yourself.” He lectured firmly.

“I’ve been eating more regularly, haven’t I?” Bruce defended. “It’s not my fault I haven’t been sleeping either.” 

Bruce crossed his arms, a little insulted at the insinuation that he hadn’t been taking exorbadent efforts to keep his body in the best shape physically possible.

“That is not what I mean. Your  _ wings _ . They are still a part of you, and you should treat them as such.” Alfred accused. “The loss of what should be completely healthy, undamaged feathers is a clear sign you haven’t been taking care of them. The amount of stress you put yourself through is more than enough to cause many problems, not to mention I highly doubt you spend any amount of time caring for them when you come home from a night of beating up criminals and insane clowns.”

Tim was trying to sneak away at this point, not wanting to be caught up in the stare down Bruce was having with the older british butler.

“Alfred, you know how important my work is - besides, these things are  _ dead _ weights, if it weren’t for keeping up appearances I’d prefer to not have them holding me back at all.” Bruce argued dropping his voice into a growl.

“Do  _ not _ take that tone with  _ me _ Bruce.” Alfred retorted holding his head up high and crossing his arms across his chest with a disapproving frown. 

Bruce froze suddenly feeling very small and guilty despite towering both in height and stature over his butler. When Alfred used his name on its own, he knew he had messed up.

Tim halted his steady retreat arms falling to his side as his own small - still developing wings drooped. “You don’t… you don’t really hate your own wings that much… do you?”

Bruce felt an even larger twinge of guilt at hearing Tim look at him with wide, worried, almost  _ disappointed _ eyes.

Alfred took a deep breath and sighed. “ _ Please _ , take a break and  _ allow _ me to re-teach you how to care for them. If for no other reason so you won’t look like a plucked chicken at the charity gala in a few weeks.”

Bruce looked at Alfred, then at Tim then back to Alfred. “A break? Right  _ now?” _

“ _ Bruce!” _ Both Tim and Alfred managed to yell at him at the same time. They shared a friendly glance and a smile at the way Bruce had jumped back slightly.

Bruce looked down at the ground and frowned. “I can’t. Not right now. Its not that I don’t care or hear you its just…”

“Look, I’ll call nightwing and batgirl- and me and them will patrol Gotham tonight, and we’ll make  _ sure _ to let you know if there’s an emergency.” Tim offered, trying to be diplomatic.

Bruce still didn’t like the idea at all, especially not the idea of Tim going out without him there. He glanced back at the batcomputer mournfully.

“Or maybe you can tell the league your sick and someone could keep an eye on Gotham for you! Maybe… I don’t know, Superman?” Tim suggested with a bashful grin. “I’d be kind of cool to work with him again.”

Bruce looked down at the boy, slowly beginning to admit defeat. “You really liked working with him, didn’t you?” 

A more bitter part of him told him that Clark would make a far better mentor for Tim than he ever could, maybe it’d be for the best for Tim to spend more time with Clark instead of him.

“Yeah!” Tim announced excitedly. “He could even make a Batman appearance for you like last time! Though I’m not sure he liked having his wings spray-painted…”

Bruce bit his lip - It  _ would _ be handy for someone to enforce the idea that Batman  _ can _ fly. That was one thing aside from his identity he couldn’t afford to let his foes catch onto.

“I don’t want him pestering me if you call him.” He pointed out. He wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea of Superman watching gotham anymore - at the same time he didn’t want Clark rushing to him,  _ worrying _ about him.  _ Pitying _ him. Looking at him like he was some fragile piece of china that would fall apart any second.

“ I could tell him your sick or something?” Tim offered, already ready to cover for Bruce’s pride.

“ _ No. _ If you do he won’t stop bugging me to try and ‘take care’ of me.” He said, stiffening up at the thought as he began to strip the rest of the batsuit off.

“Perhaps I can tell Mr. Kent that your priorities keeping up your ‘Bruce Wayne’ persona need to take precedence if you intend to keep up your nightly activities. It’s not entirely dishonest.” Alfred offered, simply relieved that Bruce was even going to  _ try _ to take time off.

Perhaps even if he hated them, even he was a bit worried about his wings losing all their feathers.

“That’ll work, thanks Alfred…”

“Go take a long bath and  _ relax _ .  **_Please_ ** .” He insisted, shooing him towards the stairs.

“I’ll  _ try _ .” He sighed, the mere notion of  _ trying  _ to relaxed only making him thoroughly  _ not _ relaxed.

When he marched upstairs and was out of the batcave he once again let his wings drag along the ground, his mind deciding he wanted to punish them for once again proving to be nothing but a burden for him to take care of despite knowing the first thing Alfred would tell him would be to stop dragging them through dirt and whatever else might have fallen on the floor. 

He passed himself in a mirror in the hall briefly, he met his own icy gaze and lifted his wings up to scrutinize them himself. They did admittedly look worn and rough. He caught a hanging portrait of his mother and father reflected in the mirror in the corner of his eye.

His mother’s face was kind, but they both shared the same intense gaze - the same icy blue color that was unmistakably a trademark of hers that had been passed down to him.

“Don’t look at me that way mother.” He uttered placing his hand against the large mirror. “They failed you as much as they failed me.” He whispered slowly losing his will to stand up straight as his body slowly tipped forward, staring at his own reflection.

His heart pounded in his ears, each thud in his chest sounding more and more like gunshots. His wings quivered behind him - and suddenly instead of seeing himself he staggered back as for a split second he could have sworn he saw his mother staring back at him.

Disappointed… Disgusted…

Then gone within the blink of an eye. Only a figment of his imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this right away, but I figured that it's short, so why not?


	3. Regressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What should have been an ordinary dull appearance at a charity gala turns into something a little more interesting, if not odd and slightly freakish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for a gross man being disgusting.

The visions of the dead that had been so vivid in everyone’s - including the league’s - minds only a handful of weeks ago was quickly forgotten and replaced by other news, other threats. As far as anyone cared it was an anomaly and nothing else.

Bruce was never one to write off something too quickly. He had dealt with Joker being quiet for seemingly long periods of times only to come out with a new horrific way to torture the dark knight, the batfamily, or any number of civilians one too many times for Batman to ever truly qualify something that odd as nothing. While Zatanna had come back with a hypothesis it was a necromancer in training trying out something experimental, even she had pointed out she wouldn’t know for sure unless it happened again. So for the time being, he marked it as important but not currently relevant.

Superman couldn’t always be in Gotham every time Bruce was pushed into taken an evening off, but he had assured Bruce he’d keep an ear open to check in on it, and make sure Tim was okay. He had only done a few Batman appearances. He couldn’t entirely blame him, not only did he have to restrict his powers even more than usual and pretend to be someone else entirely; but Bruce knew well from undercover work that temporary color on the wingspan felt sticky, gross, and took forever to wash out. 

Nightwing was fine to occasionally take on the Batman appearances, especially since he already had black wings, though he kept them brief. His fighting style and general stature were obviously not like Bruce’s at all and both of them worried that Dick would be labeled a copycat Batman and run into more trouble than was needed. 

It wasn’t as if Gotham wasn’t taken care of, on some level he  _ knew _ it was. It was more of a problem that he  _ personally _ couldn’t make sure that was still driving him nuts.

However, what was more worrying at the current moment was the state of his wings still looking slightly sickly on the night of a charity gala that was incredibly important for his billionaire playboy persona to make an appearance at.

He  _ had _ been trying more than usual to keep them out of trouble, and let Alfred tend to them like a mother hen.  Yet some of his larger feathers had yet to come back in, and he still hadn’t completely stopped losing them.

Superman had been absolutely ecstatic when Tim had called him for help the first time. Bruce had hoped that Alfred and Tim making excuses for him would stop Clark from worrying and coming to check on him, but… damn that man’s infinitely caring heart, he still went to check in on the billionaire anyway. And of  _ course _ he noticed that his wings look frayed and battered. 

“Bane.” Bruce had said bluntly without further explanation. 

Which wasn’t a complete lie. He  _ had _ fought Bane recently - and the monster of a man had the tendency to like grabbing him by the wing (which even most of his other villains seemed against) and throwing him against things or even trying to rip them right out of his back. Bane was the one villain that Batman never used his wings as a shield against even with his articulated armor covering them from the worst possible damage - otherwise he might just lose them permanently. If both Batman and Bruce Wayne showed up with missing wings at the same time… not only could he lose everything for being a wingless prominent figure any any respect he had in the league- but it wouldn’t be that hard to connect the dots. 

“They look pretty bad…” Clark had said running his sky-blue eyes over him.

Those simple words had caused him to tense, pull his wings up close against his back as if silently willing them to disappear out of shame.

“Maybe you should call the league whenever Bane gets out from now on… it doesn’t seem like something…”

“I can handle it Clark.” He had bit out in a sudden bout of anger. “I’m not an incapable damsel in distress. I’ve taken Bane before, and I’ll do it again, and again, as many times as I have to.” He snapped bitterly.

He hated when Clark looked at him like a kicked puppy dog, with wide eyes and drooping wings. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were incapable! I know you are it’s just…”

“Look, I’m asking you for help now to cover for me. Can’t that be enough for you?!” He shouted suddenly.

The man’s gorgeous gold and white wings curled around his own form protectively. It was an unintended flinch, as if Bruce could ever even leave as as a scratch on that annoyingly constantly invulnerable man without blades lined with kryptonite.

“Yeah, yeah, your right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you.” He conceded taking a step back away from Bruce to give him space.

Bruce took a long deep breath changing the subject. “Look after Tim and Dick for me. If they get hurt on your watch you won’t live to see another day, do you hear me?” He said, clenching his arm and looking away as he barked out another empty threat.

Clark tilted his head to the side sympathetically - unfazed by the Bat’s scolding. “I will Bruce. I promise.”

\----

 

The story he would have to tell the wealthy and the famous of Gotham would have to be different. He was still mulling it over in his mind as Alfred carefully clipped wing extensions into his wingspan to make them look fuller and bigger than they did at the current moment, but if he lost any feathers at the Gala, making it obvious that something was wrong with him he’d have to have a pretty solid story.

“What about those people that do storms flights, could that work?” Bruce asked Alfred who had been very carefully trying to attach a longer synthetic feather on the edge of his left wing.

Alfred hummed thoughtfully as he pondered the question and stepped back to admire his work. Bruce stretched out his wings, giving them a brief glance in the wide ceiling to floor length mirror on the wall of the bathroom. He nodded with a brief grunt of approval, Alfred had done a pretty decent job of making his wingspan look more normal. Even if the black fake feathers didn’t completely match the purple and blue undertones of his natural ones in the light, it was likely no one would ask unless they got exceptionally close to him.

“I think your making your excuse more complicated than it needs to be.” Alfred said handing Bruce his tie he had picked out for the evening. “I think having just recently recovered from sickness is a perfectly reasonable and believable excuse.

Bruce took a deep breath. “Your right, that’s more believable.” He put on his tie thoughtfully biting his lip.

“Although, if I could - storm flying  _ does _ sound fun.” 

Alfred shook his head. “Sir, I believe you are too much of an adrenaline junky already. I absolutely forbid such an activity.”

“Relax Alfred, its not like its ever going to happen anyway.” Bruce replied with a playful wink.

Despite Bruce making a joke out of it, Alfred couldn’t bring himself to even fake a chuckle.

“Never say never as they say, Master Bruce.” He said slowly, handing the stoic man a set of silver cufflinks.

“Sure Alfred, dreams come true and all that. I’ll have to make sure I wish extra hard at the stars tonight and talk to all my animal friends. Maybe I’ll get a prince charming too as a fun bonus.” He commented with a sarcastic snort.

Alfred simply rolled his eyes wondering why this man had to be so ridiculous and ridiculously stubborn 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

\---

"Brucie! You look handsome as ever, but what happened to your poor wings? You lost a few feathers while we were dancing!"

Bruce swirled his wine he had been drinking, forcing himself not to grimace at already having to jump into explaining himself. He looked at the young brunette girl clinging to his arm with his signature fake smile that had been labeled "charming" by those who didn't know him very well.

"I caught something after my last business trip, it was awful! As if I needed another reason to hate that boring business-y stuff." He complained, not above faking a slight spoiled sounding whine.

The woman - Amber - looked up at him with furrowed brows and a slight worried pout. "Brucieeeeee! You should have called, I would have gladly kept you company while you recovered. Oh... over the phone of course, you understand." She stated fluffing up her own brown and white speckled wings - betraying her from being able to hide the discomfort at the idea of loosing her own feathers.

"I wouldn't wish this on anyone, especially not you. So I understand sweetheart, don't worry." He replied with an unfazed wink.

Amber wasn't the only woman there that had been gunning for trying to romance the billionaire - half of them would have been happy with just a night with him, the other half were practically clawing at each other at the slight chance that they might be able to marry one of the richest men on earth. God forbid any of them found out he’d never be up for a romantic flight alone with anyone.

Bruce noticed Amber giving some of the other women he recognized a coy smug look of triumph that evening as she clung to him like a koala. Amber was... well as far as he knew not the brightest. However he found himself sometimes wondering if he wasn't the only one there that tended to act air-headed for the sake of public image. It might have been an even rougher game for many of the women that he had encountered during his ‘playboy’ act. They didn’t get the luxury of being praised by never committing to a partner after all. 

"Oh!" She suddenly said with a slight shriek nearly causing Bruce to jump out of his skin and spit out his drink. "I know! Maybe you can get Ricky to tell you who he went to!" She chirped excitedly. "I wouldn't mind knowing myself."

Richard… the Richard that Dick when still very young had once referred to as “the gross old name-stealer” was one of the older members of Gotham's elite members, Bruce recalled confronting him as Batman a few years ago due to some shady business coming out of the man's privately owned bank. 

"Went to? Went to where?" He asked curiously.

She gaped at him. "BrUCIE!" She shrieked. "Your kidding, haven't you seen him?!"

Perplexed, he looked around scanning the room for the old goat, but couldn't seem to spot him. "No, I haven't run into him yet, what's up with him?"

She gasped. "Oh! I'm so surprised you haven't heard yet, its all anyone is talking about tonight! He apparently took a trip to see some guy, cause you know his knee or something was causing him trouble, and he came back looking at least 15 years younger! It's incredible!"

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, which caused the girl to immediately bite her lip and scan the room. If true, he was also starting to wonder why he didn't notice - though to be entirely fair he didn't tend to put a lot of his brain power into anything but keeping up his act and appearances.

She triumphantly pointed towards the opposite corner of the large marble floored room. "Oh! There he is! What did I tell you?"

Bruce followed her gaze and the point of her perfectly manicured finger, eyes landing on a middle aged man with black wings with white tips who was seemingly surrounded by a crowd of people whom he was smirking and boasting loudly to with his arm around a young girl who seemed very interested in what he had to say. It wasn't until the man turned his face in their direction that he nearly dropped his wine glass. He usually played up his clumsiness, but for once he was actually stumbling in legitimate shock. 

"That's not.... It can't be..." Bruce found himself stammering out loud.

"Oh that's what I thought, but once you've heard him... see him... the results are right there!" She proclaimed, placing a hand on her cheek wistfully.

Without responding Bruce walked towards Ricky who was shamelessly looking down past his long flat nose at a curious woman's cleavage. Amber excitedly continued to cling to him without question.

Putting on his signature 'Brucie grin' he approached Ricky boldly. "Rick! Is that really you?! You look great!" He chirped.

"Ah! Bruce! Yep, it's me - in the flesh!" He grinned, standing tall and proud.

"What's your secret? Did you find a really good surgeon?" Bruce inquired tilting his head to his left side 'innocently'.

It was an idiotic suggestion of course, no surgery could make a 65 year old man look like he had barely entered his 50's.

Ricky took a long triumphant sip of his champagne, finishing off his glass and setting it down on the try of a passing server. "Nope! Not one scalpel or fancy lazer got near this face of mine!" He looked Bruce up and down with his pale grey eyes slowly. "I heard about some 'miracle' worker from my cousin, she was insistent that I give him a visit and shell out a bit of cash. I thought it was a load of hooey, but I humored her and..." He looked up towards the ceiling almost blissfully. "Well I tell yah, he's the real deal."

It sounded way too far fetched, and yet here this man was standing right in front of Bruce looking over a decade younger. He told himself he shouldn't be too surprised with the amount of annoying encounters he'd had with magic over the years... but even that had its limitations. This was something else. Unless...

"What did he... do to make it happen?" Bruce asked trying to keep a growl from coming into his voice out of habit from interrogating criminals and blinked his eyes as if completely lost and bewildered.

"It was a little strange, but all this guy did was touch his left two fingers to my forehead like this..." He explained, getting uncomfortable close to Bruce as he made the same gesture and only kept his fingers inches away from Bruce's skin. "And his right hand right here." He demonstrated by putting his right hand over Bruce's heart on his chest. He tried not to scowl at this man thinking it was fine to invade his personal space.

“Really? That’s all?” Amber squealed. “How is this not big news?”

“Its sort of an ‘open secret’ deal. Apparently he wants to perfect his methods and offer his help to the  _elite_ types before offering his services to the public. Not like the common scum could afford it.” Rick announced with a laugh drenched in slime.

“It  _ sounds _ amazing, if I didn’t see you right here I wouldn’t believe it.” Bruce said, raising his glass to the man.

Much to his chagrin Rick slowly put an overly-friendly arm around Bruce’s shoulder, winking at Amber as he did. “I’m gonna do another session with him next week, then you might have a little competition for the most eligible wealthy bachelor Brucie.” His grin was just a little too wide, it was something Bruce hated in a man’s expression more and more with every passing day. “Tell you what though, maybe I’ll hook you up - this guy might be able to do something for your feather loss there.”

Bruce tensed his wings in embarrassment, glancing to the ground to notice a few more feathers had decided to gather around his feet. Amber’s nails had begun to dig into his arm like she wanted to bind herself to his skin like a leech so she might get part of this deal too.

He swallowed his pride and played innocent. “Gosh Ricky, you would really do that for me?” He asked bashfully putting on his most dopey smile.

“Anything for you Brucie, I feel like I owe ya a favor after getting a pretty  _ mind-blowing _ night with your ma in ‘78.” He announced with a boisterous laugh that the other elite gathered laughed along to. 

Bruce’s hand shook as he struggled not to crush his wine glass in his hand.

“You're  _too_ kind  Ricky.” He replied, grinning just a  _ little _ too widely.

\---

“He didn’t get  _ too _ near you, did he?”

“That’s the first question you have Alfred?” Bruce replied, leaning forward in his limo seat to hover close behind Alfred’s shoulder as he drove. Most flew to the gala, though he was able to get away with coming in a fancy car as most other wealthy decided they'd rather not ruffle their feathers or get their wings dirty - so instead they opted to have some poor sap take them wherever they pleased. Though Bruce likely had one of the only limos that allowed the driver some comfort by having the seat be softer with more room for the wings to rest. He would never ask Alfred to get a cramp in his wings or develop problems because of such a thing.

“Can you honestly blame me sir? I’ve never cared too much for that man.” He announced, turning his nose up slightly.

“No. Not at all.” He replied with a heavy sigh.

His chest began to feel heavy, the exchanged words of the evening started to build in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. “Alfred… My mom never…. With  _ him _ , did she?”

Alfred clenched his fists, eyes suddenly widening in a blind rage as he slowly met Bruce’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. “Did he…  _ imply _ something perchance?” 

Bruce clenched his teeth. “It certainly seemed like it. He said he felt he  _ owed _ me for my mother giving him a ‘mind-blowing night in ‘78’ was how he put it.”

If looks could kill. In fact Bruce was sure if Alfred had Superman’s powers he would have bored a hole of hot rage right out the windshield blasting who knows where into the night.

“Your mother would  _ never!!! _ How dare that putrid  _ rat _ of a man even suggest such a thing!” He raged, not caring to continue showing any semblance of politeness. "It's not even just a lie! It's  _slander_!"

“No I didn’t think so… I’ve never come so close to punching someone outside of the Batsuit.” Bruce admitted, rubbing his hands together that still craved to go back and strangle the man. “The only thing that stopped me was the possibility of gathering information and breaking character, but even then…”

“The  _ nerve _ . I’ll tell you one thing Master Bruce, your mother had  _ very  _ good taste, and she saw that disgusting man exactly as he was and would surely fall ill at the very thought!” He declared. “And for him to say that to her  _ son _ .” Alfred ranted, struggling to not speed up and drive off the road in a blind rage.

Bruce slowly smiled, seeing Alfred so ready to jump to his mother’s defense left a warm feeling in his chest to replace the dripping sense of disgust that had settled there previously. “I imagine she’d be very appreciative of you defending her honor.”

“Quite honestly I ought to hunt that man down for even suggesting such a thing. If your mother were here she’d likely do it herself.” He took a deep breath and slowly calmed down. After a moment of watching the road - a nostalgic smile spread across his face and a slight twinkle came back to his eye at thought of Martha.  “Frankly I think your father and I would have trouble holding her back.”

Pride swelled in Bruce’s core, as well as curiosity. He hadn’t really heard Alfred talk about his parents a lot before, he had always seemed to end up avoiding the topic even more than Bruce did - despite Bruce sometimes asking about them. He hadn’t understood why for a long time until he eventually learned how hard their deaths had been on Alfred too. It was something they both were able to deeply understand about each other.

“Really?” He asked with a content smile.

“Really.” Alfred glanced back at him calmly as they arrived back at Wayne Manor. “You take after her more than you know. I see elements of your father in you often, and yet...” He paused biting his lip as he got out of the car and opened the door for Bruce, allowing for them to stand together in silence before finally answering. “You have her same  _ tenacity _ and  _ ferocity _ . I know it was something your father and I admired greatly about her. How she could be so kind and loving, but ruthless and precise when it came to her honor and protecting the ones she loved.” He mused.

He raised his wings up slightly with a calm appreciative smile. It was the first he’d really heard about his mother in a long time.

It was nice hearing about her from Alfred, a man who knew Martha Wayne personally as she truly was and would never even conceive of thinking of her as anything but an equal if not a woman he honored and appreciated even after she had taken her final breath. 


	4. Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for distressing imagery in the second half of this chapter.  
> Though for the most part this is more of a 'downtime' chapter than anything. <3

“Seems unfair a disgusting uncouth man like him should be allowed his youth  _ and his hair _ once more.” He mumbled to himself.

“As if the greedy and evil need to live any longer.” Bruce agreed with a grumble.

Bruce and Alfred descended the stairs into the batcave. Bruce still ruffling his feathers and brushing at his wings subconsciously to rid them of small droplets of water from the bath they had just been given after stripping the wing extensions out of them.

Bruce barely had time to collect himself as Superman, dressed in the bat-costume soared into the batcave with Tim not far behind. He had forgotten Clark had told Tim he’d patrol with him that night since Bruce had to be at the gala.

It suddenly struck him he hadn’t really stayed around at any point to really see Clark donning the bat-suit.  The whole thing was clearly a little tight on him - he didn’t entirely mind people thinking Batman was bigger than he was. The thing that immediately gave away the fact that it was Clark under that shadowy terrifying cowl however was the big grin plastered on his face as soon as he saw Bruce.

He soared down to land in front of Bruce who had just reached the bottom of the stairs and landed gracefully in front of him.

“Hey B! Have good time?” He asked, pulling the cowl off swiftly, his slightly curly hair falling messily in his face. Bruce tried not to dwell on his appearance too much.

He grunted. “Something weird came up, how was the patrol?” He asked as he wandered over to the batcomputer - not letting his eyes drift over to Clark in the snugly fit batsuit beaming at him so brightly Bruce was starting to wonder if those cheerful rays could burn his skin.

Tim leaned on the dramatically tall black chair that Bruce had just sat in. “Pretty quiet actually. What happened that was weird?” Tim asked, already sipping a canned energy drink with a  _ straw _ of all things.

He paused in his determined trajectory, jotting down a quick scribble so he wouldn’t lose his train of thought on a sticky note and putting it on the edge of his keyboard. He then turned to look at Tim and then at Clark who was stripping Bruce’s armor off his body, setting it nicely off to the side while he met Bruce’s gaze. Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of their locked gaze, so he ripped it away and turned back to Tim.

“You remember Richard Bennett?” 

Tim bit down on his straw and grimaced. “Unfortunately. That old guy doesn’t know the meaning of “honest business” or “personal space” when it comes to you and every woman ever, right?”

Clark narrowed his eyes at Tim’s explanation. 

Bruce nodded. “That ‘old guy’ showed up at the gala 15 years younger.”

Tim nearly dropped his drink. “What?”

Clark disappeared inside the large shower room inside the cave that Bruce said he could use for getting the copious amounts of temporary black dye off his wings - Thinking about trying to do that in the cheap boxy shower in Clark’s apartment that the man could barely fit his wings in to begin with was not something he felt he needed to subject him to.

He knew Clark would still be listening though, so he continued recounting the evening.

“I wouldn’t have even believed it was him.” Bruce explained. “He  _ claims _ he went to a man who was able to do it to him almost instantly.”

“Seriously? That sounds almost impossible. It’d be a lot more common if it wasn’t.” He noted.

Tim set is drink down a little bit too close to one of the holes in the table for the copious amount of wires from the batcomputer monitors to slip into. Bruce glared at it silently then slowly looked Tim in the face and narrowed his eyes, not saying another word.

The boy then grinned in terror and sheepishly picked it up and instead set it over on a nearby shelf. 

He relaxed when Bruce finally continued. “Ricky is a notorious liar, especially about his intimate escapades, however this was something he seemed more sinceer about than usual.” Bruce explained, searching and finding a more recent picture of Richard who looked more as how both Bruce and Tim last remembered seeing him.

Stern square face, a long flat nose, grey comb-over hairstyle along with exactly three whiskers at the end of his chin. His eyes were sunken in and weary from one too many late nights, belly distended from binge drinking his mind into nothingness.

Clark stepped out of the showers, golden wings once again shining, dry and clean back in his signature blue and red outfit. He floated over beside Bruce to stare up at the man he had pulled up on the screen. “He really showed up looking significantly younger?”

Bruce nodded, pulling out his contacts and setting them in a very small, special tray. They did next to nothing for his sight, but they did tend to come in handy for other reasons. He also took out the small unnoticeable communicator the whole league used that he also personally used as a small recorder for these exact situations where he could get intel outside of the Batsuit. 

He stood and slid the tray into a special chip reader of his own design, capturing the information gathered by two of the tiniest cameras currently in existence into the smallest of circuits. After a few moments that included Clark tilting his head like a cat at the device as it plugged away, admiring its progress - Bruce was able to open up a compiled video of the evening from the moment he had deemed important enough to start recording.

He played the video - watching his own hand extending forward to greet Rick, ignoring the inward feeling of ‘ _ oh god do I really sound like that?” _ of his own voice announcing  _ “Rick! Is that really you? You look great!” _ . He paused the video right as he got a good shot of Rick looking him straight into his eyes - straight into the camera for that matter.

“Holy sh…” Tim began, stopping dead when both Bruce and Clark’s heads snapped to him. He bit his lip, as if being given the patented disapproving parent look from Batman wasn’t bad enough. “...Shh…. Sugar” He finished awkwardly.

“Hmm.” Bruce narrowed his eyes at him for the second time that evening.

“I know, I know, it’s no ‘Holy Priceless Collection of Etruscan Snoods, Batman!’ but I can’t come up with those as fast as Dick can.”

Bruce huffed, it was as close as the man was going to get to a laugh tonight, Clark’s chuckling was what truly brought a look of pride to Tim’s face along with a bright grin.

“I agree with Tim though, that’s unbelievable.” Clark said after calming his chuckle. “It seems you had a more eventful night than Batman and Robin did.”

Bruce nodded. “He offered to ‘hook me up. Whatever that means.” He sighed leaning back in his chair. “That would mean interacting with Rick far more than I’ve ever wanted to.”

“Well… do you think its necessarily something sinister?” Clark asked sitting on Bruce’s desk nonchalauntly before he could protest. 

“I’d say making that man live any longer counts as sinister.”

Clark’s eyes widened. “ _ Bruce _ ! That’s awful!”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew him.” Bruce countered with a huff, reaching over to an abandoned cup of tea and swirling it around - wondering if an extra bit of caffeine was worth drinking cold tea that had been left there for a few hours. “I’m not saying he  _ deserves _ to die, I’m just saying I don’t like the idea of living longer than he’s meant to. Imagine if you couldn’t even count on  _ Luthor _ eventually dying of old age Clark.” He pointed out as Alfred seemed to come out of nowhere and pull the tea cup out of Bruce’s hand and replace it with a fresh cup of hot tea only to fly back up the stairs and disappear again.

Clark grit his teeth, and slowly took a sip of tea himself, only to spend a second staring at the little cup in his hand that matched Bruce’s in confusion as to when he got it.

“I see your point. Though maybe Luthor would be a better man if he got some of his hair back.” Clark said slowly grinning.

Bruce snorted. “You think that’s the reason he’s giving you trouble? He’s jealous of those gorgeous locks of yours?”

Clark smiled brightly as his wings perked up. “You think my hair is gorgeous?”

Bruce’s smirk turned into a scowl. “Not the point Kent.”

This only caused Clark’s smile to turn into a painfully charming grin, no doubt taking pride in the fact that Bruce hadn’t exactly said ‘no’ to his question.

“I think we both know Luthor is just jealous.”

“I’ve heard of worse backstories for people to do horrible things.”  Tim said piping up. “Remember Crazy Quilt? Or Condiment King?” 

Bruce’s wings drooped as he put his head in his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

Tim and Clark both snickered.

“ _ Anyway _ .” Bruce said trying to turn his impending chuckle into a frustrated growl - only to come out with an awkward clearing of his throat. “I’m going to see how this develops - even if its not immediately threatening, If there is someone out there who is able to pull something like this off I’d like to know about it. Especially if they plan on profiting off of it. Rick had implied he had dropped a very large amount of money on this.”

He took his sticky note he had made earlier and re-wrote it on the batcomputer to file with the video from the evening. He then opened one of his journals and stuck it in a page he felt was appropriate.

Clark clapped him on the shoulder and stood up. “Well, let me know if you need any help B. If that’s the case then I  _ really _ wouldn’t want Luthor finding out about it.” He then smiled at Tim “See you around Robin.” He cheekily startled Bruce by saying goodbye to Tim in Batman’s voice. It was uncanny to hear his own voice come out of Mr. Sunshine’s mouth.

Tim laughed. “Alright Superbat, see you around.”

“ _ Superbat. _ ” Bruce grumbled to himself as he gave Clark a half-hearted wave as the man drifted towards the entrance of the cave and left the two alone.

\---

Bruce didn’t know where he was, he looked around blearily before realizing someone was hovering over him.

Batman… no…  _ Superman _ in the batsuit, massive black wings spread out proudly. A strong and powerful dark angel. Superman pulled the cowl off his face, looking down at Bruce with a calm smile.

Bruce realized he was lying down on a high rooftop, he looked around in a confused panic.

“Clark, what..?”

“It’s okay Bruce, you don’t have to worry anymore.” Clark said with a grin.

“Yeah, we can handle Gotham without you Bruce. In fact I think Clark makes a better Batman, don’t you think?” Tim suddenly appeared with a laugh, soaring over his head and flying up next to Superman. "He's  _definitely_ a better mentor. He's actually able to protect me."

Bruce scrambled to his feet, clenching his fists. “Your wrong. Gotham is  _ my _ city, and Superman has Metropolis to worry about.”

Clark laughed in his face, Bruce took a step back in shock. That wasn’t Clark’s laugh at all, it was mocking and cruel - devoid of any kindness or warmth. 

“That’s just the thing Bruce. I protect the whole  _ world _ . You can  _ barely _ handle Gotham at all! You call yourself a hero but you can’t even  _ fly. _ ” He stared down the bridge of his nose at Bruce in disgust.

Bruce swallowed, hard. His wings starting to feel heavier and heavier by the second. “How… how did you…”

“ _ He’s right _ .” A third voice joined in behind him, and he felt a hand grab onto his left wing and tug him up to meet the mystery person’s face.

“Diana??” He stammered, looking up into her tiger-brown eyes that pierced right through him, leaving a burning pain in his stomach. Her nails dug into the elbow near his wing. Stinging pain spread over him he cried out - suddenly finding himself unable to control his own body. “ _ Stop! _ ” He tried to shout, but his voice weakened, words only coming out as a panicked whisper. 

“What are these things even for Bruce? They’re  _ useless _ .” Diana uttered in disgust. “You couldn’t fly away when it really mattered and  _ look _ what happened.  _ You _ got them killed.”

“No… No! It wasn’t my fault! I was a  _ child _ I was  _ scared _ … I..!” Bruce protested, not able to find the strength to pull away, not believing in his own words. 

Clark suddenly rushed forward and grabbed onto his other wing clenching it in his fist so hard he threatened to shatter the bone underneath. “If she hadn’t tried to go back for you, she’d still be alive. How many people have you put in  _ danger _ or  _ killed _ because you tried to convince them they could believe in flightless scum?”

This wasn’t them, this wasn’t real. A small part of his brain tried to protest, tried to argue, but he couldn’t. He was frozen and unable to struggle as both Diana and Clark, slowly pulled him by his wings, holding him out over the edge of the building they were on, he immediately dropped, gravity starting to rip him down towards the earth. He yelled in agony as the weight of his body ripped and strained at the muscles and bones holding his wings to his back. “No! Please, I’m sorry!!!” He heard himself beg despite himself.

Tim stood at the edge of the building and looked down at him with a dismissive frown. “You’re just holding me back. It wasn’t enough for you to be grounded, you had to drag me down with you.”

He blinked and instead of Tim he saw Dick glaring down at him. “I don’t need you, what good have you  _ ever _ done for me?”

“None of us  _ need _ you Bruce.” Clark suddenly looked at him with a sick grin. “And I don’t think you need these things anymore either Bruce.”

In an instant, Clark and Diana pulled in opposite directions, laughing as he yelled in pain, powerless to fight back. Then… he was falling, wingless, alone, darkness enveloping as he heard a distant woman’s scream that had haunted him far too often. He was going to die.

Bruce woke up in a cold sweat, panting heavily and eyes dry from crying in his sleep. He shivered as he frantically kicked off his blankets curled around himself, pulling his wings around his body like a cocoon. His hands shook as he rubbed at his back and ran his hands through his feathers to physically confirm they were still there and still attached to him. The dull stinging itch of phantom pain in his left wing from no visible injury was enough to tell him that was the feeling that had made its way into his subconscious.

“Nightmare… a nightmare…” He mumbled to himself trying to desperately will himself to stop shaking, feeling himself suddenly unable to breath properly. He tried desperately to take slow long breaths.

He stayed curled around himself for several long minutes as he was slowly able to calm himself down with some concerted effort and trying to focus on the sound of ticking from the old grandfather clock in his room he often found comforting. 

He started to pet his left wing his left wing as he steadied his breath. For the first time in forever feeling grateful they were still there.

Eventually, he looked at the time, light of his phone violently invading his already weary eyes.

4:30 AM.

He sighed and got up to take a hot shower, deciding Batman was going to go on an extra patrol in the early morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That dream sequence was very painful for me to write ngl.   
> But it was important.  
> Thank you for making it through, more to come!!


	5. Reanimation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it easier to bring back the dead or to turn back the clock?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a kind of gross bit involving... dead people. Fair warning.

He was off his game, and he knew it. He hadn’t had a dream that had shaken him up that bad since… well before he was even Batman. The closest he had gotten was the jittery feeling after recovering from Scarecrow’s fear toxic. He scolded himself for taking a hit from _Kite-man_ of all people. He had gotten many bruises and scars from fights, but the bruise forming on his cheek was the result of sloppiness. Batman was many things, but he did _not_ take hits from _kite-man_.

He took cover behind a parked car and readied his batarangs. Before he could throw them however, Kite-man was suddenly sent soaring into the ground by a familiar face sending a kick into his back from above. Batman slowly stood and Nightwing turned to him.

“Rough morning?” Dick asked with a smirk.

Batman grunted and knelt down to cuff the knocked out kite-based criminal. “I had it under control.”

Dick crossed his arms. “Hello to you too.”

Bruce felt a twinge of guilt, but it only made its way out onto his face by making his frown into a scowl.

“I haven’t seen you in Gotham for a while.” Bruce said, changing the subject as they moved out of the public street. Batman following Nightwing’s flight path up to the top of a building with his grappling gun.

He stretched his wings out, soaring up to into Gotham’s skyline felt calming and satisfying, even if the closest he felt he’d ever be to flying would be through the use of pulling himself up into the Gotham skyline with a cable.

“What are you doing here Dick?” He finally said once they were standing side by side. He stood, one foot on a gargoyle riddled with hairline cracks and soot from decades ago. He stood inhaling the cold and and let his wings arch over his form like two large black armored umbrellas. It would do him some good hold them up more often.

Dick folded his black wings that he had decorated with fake blue feathers to match his Nightwing persona. Though the choice puzzled him, Bruce liked it a lot more than finding glitter all over the cave floor because a young Dick Grayson had coated his wings in the stuff.

“Alfred was worried about you, and I was the closest.” He paused and scratched the back of his head. “I know you’re going to say something like -” He dropped his voice mimicking Bruce’s dull Batman growl and held up two fingers behind his head to mimic the cowl. “I’m fine Nightwing, I don’t need you or anyone to check up on me...”

Batman narrowed his eyes at the impression and grit his teeth slightly as he swallowed those exact words.

“But its not just Alfred, all of us are worried about you. Barb said Alfred and Tim practically have to tie you down to stop you from destroying your own wings.” Nightwing walked forward ignoring Bruce’s immediate look of distaste for the conversation.

“I’m not ‘destroying’ them. It’s not as if  I’m plucking my own feathers out. I’ve just had a few long nights. It’s not abnormal.” He defended. “I’ve been doing _plenty_ to take care of them, I don’t need you or anyone else breathing down my neck.”

Dick stared at Bruce who crouched on the edge of the building, teetering on the edge as he looked over Gotham, wings bathing the batman in shadow.

“It’s not just about the wings Bruce. Something else is wrong. I get it, the wing thing is something your working on- and despite what the gossip circles and tabloids say, I know you’re not plucking.” Nightwing hesitantly crouched down next to Bruce, his own wings brushing up against his. “I won't…” He paused taking a deep breath and momentarily chewed on his inner cheek as he chose his next words carefully.

“I won’t force you to tell me. I just thought you should know that you could.” He finally said.

Batman slowly inhaled through his nose, chest heaving. “It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around.”

Before either of them could say another word, Batman snapped his head to the left as he heard a scream. Dick stood up along with him as Batman saw a familiar figure.

“What the hell is that?” Dick spread his wings, ready to take off.

“That’s one of those ‘ghosts’ that appeared in metropolis a few months ago. You can get down there faster, make sure no one touches it or gets near it. Don’t engage with it yourself either!” He commanded.

Nightwing nodded and took off immediately as Bruce jumped down, grappling gun in hand as he lowered himself onto the ground and swiftly as releasing the line to glide the rest of the way down as if he had just swooped down from the sky out of nowhere.

The shining black metal armor that adorned the ridge of his wings was much too heavy to fly effectively in, yet, since he couldn’t do so anyway they helped him glide with minimal effort.

Just as he landed, ready to take readings, the thing suddenly began convulsing. The inky black mass becoming more physical, and almost shiny as it pulsated and lost its white edge.

“Um… did this happen before?” Dick asked as Batman came to his side now that the immediate area was clear.

“No.” He touched his communicator. “Batman to all points, one of the energy beings appeared again, this time in Gotham. But something is different, its…”

Before he could even attempt to explain the strange black mass, part of it dripped to the ground, twisting and morphing. They both soon realized tiny tendrils were morphing and reforming to look something like a human muscular structure. Horrible mangled teeth appeared in what should have been its mouth, pushing out of the black depths only to click into place as they aligned themselves with a jaw. Wide bloodshot eyeballs suddenly emerged from its sockets.

Both Batman and Nightwing stood, frozen at a completely loss for words. Dick suddenly coughed, clutching at his stomach and clenching his teeth to try and force down the bile that forced to come up from the already unsettled feeling in his gut.

“Batman? Batman are you alright?” He heard a voice in his ear, but he couldn’t make himself respond, he was frozen. Thin skin stretched itself over the dark increasingly humanoid figure, bones popping as they fit into place. The thing’s mouth open and closed, horrid rattling coming from its throat as it struggled to begin breathing.

Bruce didn’t even move at the large hand on his shoulder signaling Superman trying to get his attention, or Zatanna swooping down from one of the tallest buildings in Gotham next to Wayne Tower.

They all stood and watched in horror as the man now before them fell to the ground. Skin looking stretched too thin across his bones. He reeled his head back as he took a long desperate pained gasp of air. The man shivered, clutching at the ground as his rattled breath turned into weak sobs, his wings drooped on the ground.

It was Dick that was the first to finally move forward cautiously, Bruce snapped back to reality as his hand shot out to grab Dick’s shoulder. The younger man jumped but stopped his forward pursuit.

The man finally looked up weakly only to stumble back in terror.

Bruce suddenly realized he recognized this man with the thin face and the murky blonde hair, but he couldn’t quite place him.

“Batman?” The man hissed out, voice sounding ragged and distant.

Bruce finally strode forward and slowly kneeled before him. “Yes… Yes… Its Batman. Do you know what happened to you?” He kept his rough growl but softened his voice enough as to not frighten this man further.

Even if he had just appeared in the middle of the Gotham street in the most horrific way he’d ever witnessed.

“I… I was just walking home, then there was a bright light and a ringing in my ears then….”

The man suddenly clutched at his head mouth opening in a silent scream. To the group’s horror the entire front of his body began burning away at an alarming rate. The brown feathers of his wings seemingly bursting into flames of their own accord. He fell back, completely disintegrating into nothing but ash that burst out from where the man had just been. Nothing was left of him. Nothing but dust drifting everywhere, carried by the wind.

“Batman?!” The three others present managed to shout simultaneously, rushing over to his side.

Nothing but ash… ash on his hands, ash on his face. He couldn’t even shield himself with his wing it happened so fast.

_“All over me... The ashes of the dead.”_

The thought alone made his throat clench up as he struggled to stand up.

He forced his hands not to shake as he found a few wipes in his utility belt. Ignoring Clark’s horrified gaze still locked on the ashes that settled on the ground.

“Hey quick question, what the _fuck_ was that?” Dick exclaimed pacing a circle a decent few feet away from the others, walking off his terror as much as he could.

Bruce wiped off his face and his hands as best he could, but he still felt dirty.

Zatanna nealt down, inspecting the ashes, trying to puzzle out the events that had just occurred, wrinkling her nose as she often did when deep in thought.

She finally looked up at Nightwing, then Batman and Superman. “I have… no clue what the hell that was.”

She stood, dusting off her knees from kneeling on on the cold old brick street.

“That was… different from last time.” Superman mumbled only having a moment to think before his head shot up suddenly looked towards the sky. “I think there might be more, we should go.” He announced boldly.

Batman’s chest and throat tightened in panic.

“I’m going to stay, go without me.” Bruce said immediately without missing another beat.

Superman’s eyes shot to him, giving him a look. It was disappointment which Batman didn’t _like_ seeing but he could take, however, he _was_ taken aback by the flash of anger in his colleague's eye.

“You know, Batman, I can handle this myself - and Constantine should be here soon.” Zatanna pointed out.

He grimaced, knowing she was trying to be helpful at the worst possible moment.

“I want to collect my own evidence as well.” He countered stubbornly.

“I mean… just tell me what you need and I can share it with you lat-” She began to argue, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Superman can handle it on his _own_ , If he really wants help Nightwing can go with him.” Decidedly talking like the man wasn’t there right next to him with a growing fury in his eyes.

Nightwing shuffled his feet awkwardly, walking into the circle of the superhero staredown.

“Hey, that’s cool. Batman will catch up with us later, right?” He offered trying to create a compromise.

Bruce merely nodded, trying to not notice the way Superman’s lips thinned into a straight line, or how his fists clenched before he muttered a quick “fine” and took off.

Dick looked back at him with a sympathetic look before flying off after him.

Batman took a deep breath and made himself busy. Zatanna took numerous glances at him, he noticed her open and close her mouth to try to drill him several times, but just a glance from him was enough for her to go silent.

Eventually Dick’s voice popped in over the com. “We got there, they disintegrated too, but this time they fell over like they were hit with Joker’s venom… you know with the creepy laughing and the smile… yeah.. Um… then started just...rotting away. There’s just a bunch of dirt and gross maggots on the ground now.” Nightwing paused. Bruce could hear the disgust in his voice. As if the ashes hadn’t been bad enough. “I think I recognize them though.”

“I was sure I recognized the man here before he disintegrated…” Batman replied, pacing thoughtfully before making his decision.

“I’m going to head back to the cave. I have resources documenting deaths in Gotham. I think Alfred’s original guess was correct that these are people reliving their last moments.”

Zatanna interjected. “That would make sense, but most necromancy doesn’t work like that. It reanimates corpses sure, but they’re mindless. Not to mention they certainly don’t relive their deaths like that when reanimated. This really is… something else.”

She bit her lip, looking off to the side, worry pooling in her eyes - pulling her focus from the world around her.

“Work with Constantine and see if you can come up with anything.” Batman ordered.

Her head snapped up to acknowledge him, barely getting another word in before Batman walked off to disappear into a nearby alleyway.

He felt at least one layer of stress lift off his chest as had an excuse to go back to the cave and get away from the others for the time being.

Another thought bit at the back of his mind. Bringing people back from the dead, reversing the clock. Someone ripping souls from the afterlife, trying to defy death. Such a thing would have to be a powerful force to try to reverse. This was someone’s second attempt, and they were getting better.

Zatanna had mentioned traditional necromancy is more to reanimate the bodies of the dead, not to necessarily give life. He had encountered at least one of them and their goal was always to use the bodies of the dead as slaves or an army. There was never any attempt to bring back someone for the sake of it that he knew of. The closest thing would be the Lazarus pit, but the nature of the undead slipping into their world simply did not match of course.

How would one even practice such a thing? How would you become skilled at gaining something that was lost?

He leapt into the silent running stealth cover of the bat-plane, lost in thought as he zoomed back to the bat-cave.

Perhaps they were completely unrelated, maybe he was connecting puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together. And yet two bizarre cases of time seemingly being completely reversed for an individual seemed strong enough of a connection to justify investigating.

He was beginning to believe he was going to have to cave and give “Ricky” Bennett a call.


	6. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you really fix something that's been broken if it was never broken to begin with?

He refused to say why there was Ash clinging to the Batsuit when he had stormed back into the bat-cave. He usually would slip the cowl off - if anything - and go right to work. This time, however,  the moment he landed in the cave he marched past Alfred in a mad dash, ripping and peeling the suit off of him. He Shed the heavy armor off his wings as quickly as he could, shaking them and flapping them to release them from the metal prison. Not caring as he left parts of it scattered haphazardly across the cold cave floor.

He was still feeling like his skin had somehow absorbed the dead man’s ashes into his pores. It was enough for him to put off the previous train of thought he had without so much as writing it down.

He Ignored Alfred’s calls of concern after him as he strode right into the cave’s bathroom and extra large shower where he had washed caked on grime and blood from his skin many times. He passed the mirror he often used to apply prosthetics and makeup for undercover missions and froze, seeing a dusty white coating dulling the black of his feathers. The warped them into a ghostly grey. Without an extra second he threw himself in the shower, putting the water on full blast, not caring as goosebumps formed on his skin from the sudden cold as he madly rustled the water through his wingspan.

The cold water quickly warmed up to scalding levels, but he didn’t care, he wanted to burn the feeling from his skin. The water underneath his feet turned a murky grey as it spiraled down the drain. He didn’t stop madly scrubbing his body and ruffling his feathers under the water until he was absolutely sure it was entirely clear once more.

He breathed heavily, throat tight and chest ready to burst. His skin was red and irritated. He forced himself to try and breathe despite feeling his mind starting to shut down and overheat, flying out of his control. He sank down to the floor of the shower, curling around himself. Feathers sticking to his red, wet skin as he huddled himself in them. Water that was still slightly too hot ran down his back.

In…

Out…

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time he finally noticed Alfred knocking at the door.

He felt a twinge of guilt. He must have sent Alfred into a panic as well. He slowly got up, muscles aching and turned off the water, patting himself dry with a towel and wrapping it around himself. Not hesitating another moment, he opened the door for Alfred.

“Sorry Al, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said, annoyed at how quiet his own voice seemed.

He glanced at the discarded pieces of the Batsuit that Alfred had already picked up to clean.

“...and for making a mess.”

Alfred’s eyes ran over his face and along the man’s skin that looked much like a cooked lobster at the moment. He then took a deep measured breath himself.

“It’s quite alright, but perhaps you’ll humor me and “make up for it” so-to-speak by having a warm meal and a cup of tea before parking yourself at the Batcomputer?” He asked hopefully.

“For once Alfred, I wouldn’t mind procrastinating for a bit.”

He wasn’t going to get anywhere while his nerves were completely shot, and he certainly wasn’t going to be able to successfully make that call he was dreading.

\---

If Bruce indulged in anything at all, it was soft or loose clothing. Much of his day was spent either in a molded Batsuit or a stiff business suit. Both felt awful after a while, particularly if he was nursing a still healing wound. If he wasn’t planning on eating he might have put on a robe, perhaps the fluffy fur lined one that the more dramatic side of him loved with a passion.

So it was the soft black turtleneck for now, perfect for calmer moments around the manor. Soothing his skin that was still red and irritated from his mad scrubbing. It was as close to a constant warm hug that he would allow himself to be wrapped in.

He sat in one of the living rooms of the manor with his tea. Ace had his head on his leg, obviously sensing Bruce still coming down from his earlier panic. 

Finally ready to talk, he slowly filled Alfred in on what happened. He paused, looking out the window biting his lip.

“I should have asked Dick if he was okay, I didn’t even… think about him. I was too busy panicking about my stupid…” He stopped when Ace whimpered and put his paw on his leg, nuzzling and licking his hand. Bruce took a deep breath, giving his pup a pat on the head in appreciation.

“Last I heard he was heading back to Bludhaven.” Alfred replied, filling him in. “Apparently he has work to attend to there as well.”

“I’ll call him first before anyone else, or ask Barb to check in on him.” He said out loud with a sigh.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the gesture. The way you described it sounds rather dreadful on its own… for you both to have to witness such a thing…”

Just then he jumped slightly as they both heard a light tap on the window.

His head snapped up to the wide window on the far left wall with a window seat he never used. He was shocked to see a familiar amazonian smiling at him calmly - fully clad in her armor.

Alfred opened the window before Bruce could say anything.

“Good to see you Ms. Prince, may I get you a cup of tea?”

Bruce rolled his eyes at  _ that _ being the first thing Alfred greeted the demi-goddess with.

“I would enjoy that greatly if it’s no trouble.” She replied, calmly floating down into the room with them as Alfred shut the window and promptly left the room to make some more tea and -knowing him- likely come back with biscuits or tea sandwiches. 

Bruce stood up to greet her with a disapproving stare.

“Someone could have seen you.”

“You live on an isolated hill with a black gate surrounding the ground, and I am  _ very _ careful.” She crossed her arms and met his stare with her own raised eyebrow that simply said ‘remember who you’re talking to’.

He grunted and sat back down on the couch in defeat. Diana shrugged off her belt that carried her sword and shield as well as her Lasso, leaning them on the wall so she could sit by him as well.

“I am sorry to come by so suddenly, I just thought… you should be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” He asked, ignoring as best he could how her leg brushed against his slightly as she turned to him.

“Kal is angry.”

“Oh… that…” Bruce replied, turning his head away dismissively. “Is that all?”

She huffed and touched his arm gingerly to force his attention back to her. “I’m  _ serious _ Bruce. He’s really upset. Its been building for a while. You  _ have _ to tell him the truth.”

Mind coming to a screeching halt, he clenched his jaw and slowly eyed her. “ _ What _ truth?” There was no way he was going to intimidate her, but he hated the possibility of where this could go.

She stared at him for a long moment mouth falling open as she struggled to find her own words, looking at him sympathetically.

“You… can’t fly, can you?”

Ace began licking his hand, whimpering slightly. Bruce’s wings drooped, cascading like a blanket along the edge of the couch as if knowing themselves it was time to surrender.

It wasn’t a good idea for him to argue with Diana. He always lost those frustratingly anyway it seemed.

He pulled away from her, putting his hands in his lap as he stared down at the floor. “How long have you known?” He demanded more than asked.

She hummed as her suspicions were completely confirmed.

“For about a month and a half.” She looked away sadly. “I was… rather hoping you would just tell me.”

After he didn’t respond to her she tried once more to reach out and carefully put a hand over his. “I know, however, the world of men views such a thing as something shameful. You should know, I do not.”

He wasn’t sure her attempt at comfort alleviated any of the panic that was beginning to eb back into him. He didn’t push her away this time though.

“What gave it away?” He asked already trying to scan through his own memory to puzzle where his greatest slip-up might have been to clue her in.

“I started taking notice of certain things not long after those… are we calling them ghosts?”

“For now”

“...Right,  _ ghosts _ appeared.” She paused sliding closer to him again as if subconsciously fighting his previous attempts to block her out. 

“I realized I’d never seen you actually fly upwards, you were always drifting down. Before, you were the  _ Batman _ , it seemed right for you to emerge from the shadows and fly only in darkness. So there’s also the way you carry your wings around us, you overcompensate by holding them up higher than natural which makes me believe you don’t utilize them often. I know Superman wore the Batsuit often for you recently, which you may have accepted because he would never notice how your armor is far too heavy to fly in for a human. Yet they  _ would _ be decent for gliding short distances.” She looked almost proud of herself as she laid out the evidence. 

He grimaced, he should have known that of all people she would have been able to quite literally spot the kinks in his armor the most efficiently.

“I thought I was supposed to be the ‘world’s greatest detective’.” He chided rubbing his hands together. “I didn’t… expect to be able to be a part of the league and keep it to myself forever.” He slowly admitted. “I was hoping to keep it to myself for another year at least before I was revealed to officially be the weakest part of the team.”

Her eyes widened, grip tightening as if offended. “You are  _ not _ weak Bruce. I have never considered you such, nor would I believe any of the others worth anything would think so either.” She moved her hand that was over his and picked it up to cup it in both her hands. “You have proved your strength both as a brilliant mind and a fighter many times. I greatly admire seeing that so often from you. You don’t need to fly, be a god, or have powers to make a difference. Do  _ not _ forget that.”

Her touch was warm. Soft and yet with slight roughness that only came from many battles won by a warrior. He found himself ogling how his hand was so easily enveloped by hers cupped around it.

“I have not told anyone else, nor  _ will _ I. I do not consider it mine to tell.” She reassured him looking deep into his eyes. The fiery tiger brown orbs melting his cold ice blue gaze. “However, Kal has taken your numerous refusals personally. That is not your fault, however… he  _ should _ hear the truth. The way he was acting when I caught up to him and Nightwing has me believing he’s going to try and confront you.”

Bruce sighed and hunched over. He found himself squeezing her hand back to relieve some of the oncoming stress, Ace crawled into his lap as if trying to reassure him too. Diana smiled at the pup in Bruce’s lap and Ace’s tail immediately began to thump against the couch as he wagged it.

“I know. I know I should tell him, I’ve wanted to. It’s not that I don’t trust him, I’m just…” The words were lost on his tongue. He had admitted enough, he didn’t need to admit  _ that. _ Not right now.

Diana tilted her head at him knowingly. “I know. I understand. But I also know Kal also means too much to you as well.”

He nodded. “I want to tell him… I will tell him.” He resolved. 

The very notion threatened to make him hide himself in his cave for the next month and say nothing to anybody. The dread made itself onto his face. The memory of his nightmare from the previous night deciding to trickle into the forefront of his mind once more despite reassurance. 

Before he could protest he found himself pulled against Diana’s broad, strong chest as one arm wrapped around him, and the other led her hand gently into his hair. 

The sudden show of affection sent his mind spiraling into overdrive, but he didn’t protest. Or really move at all for that matter, his hands stayed stubbornly in his lap.

“I don’t think any less of you, and neither will he.” She told him softly. “I know he’s only mad because he thinks you hate him, or he’s done something to earn your distrust.”

Trust…

Yes. He decided as he allowed himself to be held tightly and firmly in a warm embrace. He slowly and awkwardly put his hands on her shoulders in an odd attempt to hug her back . Even so it was more reassuring than anything she had said. 

“You’re wonderful, have I ever told you that?” He said, allowing his lips to twitch upwards as they pulled away from each other.

“Every time we meet in armor I believe.” She replied with a joyful laugh the was sweet as honey.

Diana stayed long enough to enjoy Alfred’s tea, and took some of the mini tea sandwiches that she  _ thoroughly _ praised and thought were delightfully adorable with her. Alfred was glowing proudly with his wings held high afterwards.

As soon as she was gone, Bruce picked up his phone, feeling invigorated as his skin still felt warm from her embrace.

He immediately called Dick on his phone, deciding doing it as a personal call would be easier for him than calling him over the com as Batman.

As expected it went to voicemail.

“Dick, I’m sorry I rushed off so quickly before we could catch up.” He began as he paced out of the living room. He couldn’t say much of course, regular phone lines weren’t incredibly secure. “I know that was a lot for both of us today, and I just…” He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. “I wanted to make sure your okay. I’m sorry I got wrapped up in my own universe again. I want to catch up soon…. Okay…Bye…” 

He hung up, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward over voicemail as he felt.

 

\----

 

Clark had  _ tried  _ to leave him alone. That wasn’t debatable, the respect between them called for it. Yet despite being described as ‘like sunshine’ by many who knew him - like the sun he could grow to  _ burn _ you when his temper got the best of him. Sometimes literally, being a man who could shoot lasers out of his eyes in a fiery red blast that ripped through the air, destroying everything in its path.

Even after his talk with Diana, As soon as he heard the words  “We Need to Talk” out of Superman’s mouth, he regretted ever being a part of the Justice League - even a ‘part time member’ as he had put it. The shadows was where he belonged, no one would ever wonder why they never saw Batman flying in formation with a team. Nor would they question his ability.

How had he let himself be convinced of this? 

He hadn’t planned any of the others in the League would want to befriend him.

He scolded himself. Of course they would, to them he was likely a puzzle, a mystery, it might even be a game for them to play to see if they could befriend the bat. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew the power of curiosity.

If he had just tried a little harder…If he was somehow able to make himself fly... he wouldn’t be here at the batcomputer being interrupted yet again from his dot connecting - trying to ignore Superman’s eyes glaring at the back of his head.

“Busy.” He replied firmly.

He knew he should listen to Diana. He should tell him… He said he would… but did it have to be  _ right _ this second? 

On the other hand he had grown to call this man his friend, to not fly with your friends… well, it was a slap in the face, and he had run out of excuses.

“I’m not going to let you shrug me off again!” Superman’s raised voice caused Bruce to grimace and halt his work that he had stopped being able to do anyway and turned in his chair before standing up aggressively, not afraid to get right up in Superman’s face. Truth or not, he wasn’t going to be talked to like that.

“I don’t have time for you to throw a fit on me Kent. Drop it.” He growled, placing an accusing finger on his chest. If he wasn’t Superman he might have shoved him back. “This isn’t the time.” 

He was sure he could visibly see Superman’s blood boiling in his veins. One of Bruce’s feathers fell to the floor, and he pushed it aside with his foot, hoping the other man wouldn’t notice.

“What did I ever do to you Bruce? You always seem to make excuses not to fly with me or the other members of the team! If you don’t want to be around us just come out and say it.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Clark its not personal.”

“Then what is it? Why can’t you tell me?” He pressed further.

Fury was still clear in his eyes, but his look was starting to soften. Muscles tensing as he pulled himself away from the other man, not meaning to threaten him.

“Please… Bruce, I just want to help. I think of you as a very close friend, I just want to know what’s going on.” He pleaded.

Bruce’s wings drooped. The shame burned in his chest, feeling like it was creating a hollow cavity in the core of his being that grew with every word out of Clark’s mouth.

Another feather fell to the ground, one drifted and landed on Superman’s boot.

Solid black on bright red.

Bruce inwardly cringed as Clark bent to pick it up.

He had been doing so well and hadn’t been losing feathers for a while, so why now? He hoped it was actually just molting season for him this time, he couldn’t really check his personal schedule or his own wings at the moment.

“I… you’re not still sick are you?”

Bruce shook his head, watching as his own feather was turned around in Clark’s decently large hands as he examined it. His touch was light and careful despite having the ability to likely crush the lost piece in his hand and turn it into dust.

Why was it so hard to just say it? 

He hadn’t even really said it to Diana, she just found out on her own. He didn’t have to bluntly admit it in front of the most respected and powerful beings in the world out loud.

“I  _ can’t _ .” Bruce finally muttered.

“You can’t what? Tell me?” Clark pressed, already looking like a kicked puppy dog… a kicked puppy dog with sharp fangs if you pissed it off.

“No… I…”

Why was it so hard?  _ Why _ ?!

“What is so damn important that you can’t tell me?!” Clark was red in the face, eyes slightly wet as he was lost between fuming and crying. “I thought we were friends, or was I wrong?!”

“I can’t… I can’t….” He tried to force the words out.

“You can’t…” Clark’s expression turned bitter, mouth turned down in a sour frown. “Fine. I can take a hint.”

He turned away from him, Wings spreading out wide, a physical wall between them. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“Clark, wait…”

He was gone before Bruce could say another word. He clenched his fists and growled. 

“DAMMIT.” He yelled kicking at his own desk chair, sending it flying. In an instant it banged against the cave floor, breaking it in a fit of frustration and rage.

He paced and panted as he came down from his outburst, staring at the two broken halves of the chair that scattered along the cave floor.

His mind ran back over the events that had just happened. The look of red hot rage and betrayal in Clark’s eyes. This wasn’t random, it had been building. And why shouldn’t it? It had been nearly two years since they had become something like friends and fully committed to working with each other. 

Why wouldn’t he be angry? How could Bruce fully justify a lie in a relationship meant to be built on trust? 

It wasn’t Clark’s fault he couldn’t fly. It wasn’t the other man’s fault he had decided to live his whole life based on a shameful lie.

Even if Clark would look down on him if he knew the truth, it would be better for him to know what he  _really_ was, know what Bruce really can or can not do.

_ “I thought we were friends.” _

The words pierced through him, Clark  _ was _ his friend. So was…

“ _ Harvey _ …” he thought, old guilt threatening to bubble up - old heartbreak ready to re-open.

“ _ Some ‘friend’ I am.” _ He thought. “ _ All I seem to do is bring out the worst in them.” _

He picked up the two pieces of the chair that had been knocked apart, haphazardly fitting them back together. There was no question it's either have to be repaired or replaced.

He put it down and took one last glance at his computer, at the work he had done making a plausible connection between the revived visions of the dead and the renewal of Richard Bennett's youth.

He clenched his fists as he made his decision, bee-lining for the Bat-Plane.

He had already failed to save his first best friend, already based that relationship on a lie he could never get out of now. He wasn’t going to lose another one, he wasn’t going to lose another friend to anger and continue to lie to him.

He didn’t know how he was going to say it.

As he turned on the engine he hoped he’d think of a way on the long flight to the fortress of solitude.


	7. Rising

A single dark speck trudged through the ice and snow. Bitter cold wind stung at Batman’s face as he made his steady march forward to the doors of the fortress.

He had abandoned the heavy wing armor of the batsuit, knowing it would only slow him down if anything. His feathers puffed up as he huddled his shivering wings close to him. While they were healthy again, they were nowhere near thick enough at the moment to even attempt to shield him from the cold. Not to mention he had confirmed he had been beginning his normal molting routine this time, yet it was clear it would be months before his young feathers would fully grow back in and bring his wings back to their former glory, providing he didn’t fall back into neglecting them.

The cold didn’t matter to him however, despite it already beginning to bite at his face and chill his bones, Clark would see him coming. Even if the man was hurt and mad at him he wouldn’t let him freeze.

He did nothing but stand outside what he knew to be the gates of the fortress of solitude. He was perfectly capable of getting in, this wasn’t his first time here, but he had made the decision to wait for the man to invite him anyway.

He stood staring forward, he still hadn’t decided on how to tell him even now. Not one idea had his him on the flight over. His mind had spent more time wondering if he should quit the league after informing him to prevent anyone else from learning the truth. His thoughts even drifted to wondering if he should just accept being flightless made him useless - and as such he should give up the mantle of the bat to someone more deserving and accept his role as an outcast physically incapable of doing the one thing that solidified bonds both platonic and romantic. He couldn’t even help teach his own adopted sons how to fly, how could he even call himself their father at that point?

Several minutes ticked by that left Batman trying not to spiral back into those thoughts and fears of rejection and the possibility of never being good enough before the doors slid open at long last.

“What are you doing here?” The most powerful man in the world strode towards him, fists clenched, head down.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Bruce replied simply, completely unphased.

“What was there to finish? I think you made yourself  _ very _ clear.” He bit back. He was still trying to sound angry, but now his bitter tone more audibly came from a place of hurt.

“No.” Bruce didn’t flinch by the man’s forward march, and instead he simply walked forward, past Clark without even a second glance and strode into the fortress to get out of the cold. “I didn’t.”

Clark crossed his arms and floated in after him, shutting the doors behind them both immediately.

“Are you finally going to tell me what’s wrong?” Clark’s tone had calmed down, but Bruce could feel the sudden barrier between them that hadn’t been there since when they had first met and were still adamant about keeping each other out of  _ their _ respective cities. 

Bruce grimaced. “I’m  _ trying _ Clark. I  _ want  _ to tell you.” He slowly took off his cowl and faced him.

Clark uncrossed his arms and put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. He wasn’t truly looking in the mood to be that open. His normally firm grip on his shoulder was instead weak and reluctant. “You can talk to me Bruce, you can  _ trust _ me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, that’s not why its hard.” Bruce closed his eyes and hung his head in exasperation.

“I don’t… understand.” Clark replied looking lost and hopeless. 

Bruce opened his eyes, and studied the other man’s wide-eyed expression. Had Clark been crying? No, the man of steel wouldn’t cry over something like this, would he?

He opened his mouth and the words still fell dead before they could even reach his throat. 

“ _ Three simple words, that’s all, just  _ **_say it_ ** _.” _ he lectured himself in frustration.

His eyes drifted to one of the many nearby pitfalls in the fortress that were no problem for mos,  but were dangerous for him if he fell without even his grappling gun to save him. He began pacing, considering his options, hoping he’d have the will to speak before he took a drastic and frankly over-dramatic action.

“I haven’t ever been able to properly admit it out loud.” Bruce began, looking at Clark hopefully as he stopped pacing rather close to the edge.

“What do you mean?” Clark walked towards him. “Bruce, why isn’t this something you can talk about?”

Why indeed? Bruce had wondered the same thing all day. Why was it easier when he told Clark about his parent’s death? About Jason? Diana herself had accepted him regardless so why was it so hard to just admit it?

“It’s hard for me to say, to admit, I’m ashamed of it.” He took a few steps back, heels now flush with the edge of a deep drop, his wings betrayed him by quivering. “I want to tell you, but everytime I try I can’t seem to make myself say it.”

Clark glanced at his wings, then at Bruce’s face, eyes searching him for answers. No doubt the other man could hear his heart pounding in his chest as it realized what it had to do.

“Please just… we can work it out, I just need to know what it  _ is. _ ” Clark choked out, trying to fight a feeling of betrayal bubbling up out of him once me. 

“I’m  _ trying.” _ He growled back angrier than he meant to. Realizing he wasn’t going to be able to say it straight to the man’s face even now. “I’m just…”

He filled his lungs with a gulp of air, dipping one leg fully out into open air.

“ _ Scared...” _

He wasn’t sure if he only thought the word or whispered it quietly, but with that thought he tilted backwards, briefly feeling light and free before gravity’s unforgiving hand pulled him down into the abyss.

He was falling… falling…

But he knew he wouldn’t die.

Because he trusted Clark to catch him.

That familiar phantom pain ripped through his left wing as his natural instinct to try and fly took over, wings spreading out in a desperate attempt to carry the man up, flap, anything, only to be mangled and useless against the force of his fall. He couldn’t help the small noise of pain that gurgled out of his throat into open air, the ground was approaching fast, hard flat… and then…

He was enveloped in warm arms for the second time that incredibly long day.

He didn’t look at the other man until he was set carefully on the ground.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Clark slowly looked off to the side and winced.

“You can’t fly.” He uttered. “Can you?”

“No. I can’t.” He confirmed, forcing himself not to turn away as he tried to gage Clark’s reaction, any muscle movement that could have given him a clue to his true thoughts.

The man simply looked slightly dead eyed before leaning heavily against a nearby wall.

“And I guilted you into telling me…” He heaved putting his heads in his hands

Bruce blinked. “You didn’t  _ guilt _ me Clark. You had a right to know. I understand how hurtful and insulting it is for your friend, or even just your  _ teammate _ to not fly with you.” He hesitantly closed some of the distance between them. “You had a right to be angry.”

Clark removed his hands from his face shaking his head, Bruce realized in horror he was tearing up. “No, I was so busy thinking about myself and thinking that… that… you didn’t want to fly around with an  _ alien _ that I didn’t even bother to consider anything else. Of  _ course _ that would be hard for you to say.”

Despite knowing fully well Clark wasn’t from this earth -his unnaturally large wings of white flaked with gold made that glaringly apparent when he wasn’t bunching them against his back under floresants that turned the gold into a dirty brown with the angle he kept them at his desk job - Clark referring to himself as an alien like it was a dirty word caught Bruce off guard.

“Clark…”

“I shouldn’t have forced that from you, I should have considered…”

“Clark!” He shouted, causing the man’s head to shoot up out of his downward spiral that Bruce recognized from his own quick descent into dark places.

Bruce put his gloved hands on Clark’s cheeks, forcing the man to remain focused on him. “You did  _ not _ guilt me. I felt  _ guilty _ for not being able to tell you, but you did not  _ make _ me feel that way.”

“But…” The man tried to argue again.

“Shh!” Bruce commanded, hissing through his teeth, causing Clark to promptly close his mouth.

“Yes, you may have sped up me getting around to it, and  _ interrupted me _ while I was in the middle of something…” He chided, giving Clark a disapproving glare that was more on the playful side for him than actually angry. “...but it was something I wanted you to know, and should know.”

He sighed and took a step back, letting go of Clark’s cheeks and letting his wings droop down to the floor, not worrying about straining to keep them up anymore.

“Besides, Diana figured it out and obliterated my plan to try and keep it to myself for another year if I could.” He admitted with a huff as his hands fell to his side.

“Diana knows? For how long?” He asked voice cracking slightly, drying his wet eyes with the back of his hand.

“For a month and a half apparently, she confronted me about it this afternoon.” He explained, unconsciously rolling a small fidget cube had had apparently pulled from his belt, but even Bruce hadn’t even noticed he had taken it out.

“She was warning you I was mad wasn’t she?” He asked sheepishly, kicking at the floor softly with his boot.

“Yes. And being Diana she encouraged me to tell the truth.” He looked down at his fidget cube, clicking some of the buttons. It was his turn to act sheepish. “I was just being stubborn.”

“So was I…”

An awkward silence filled the still slightly cold air, filled only by the sound of clicking until Bruce finally forced himself to pocket the damn thing.

“Hey… B?”

“Hmm?”

Clark came close enough to him again for Bruce to begin to feel the warmth emanating from his body.

“Um… you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but have you never been able to fly or..?” He asked, curiosity sparking in his eye as well as a hint of concern.

Bruce was silent, mouth pulled into a dull line. He had never really talked about it. Yet, now that the secret was out it felt a little easier to recount the events with some amount of emotional distance.

“I was able to. A long time ago. I remember enjoying it, but I don’t remember the feeling.” He explained. “I haven’t been able to since I was eight years old.”

Clarks eyes widened as he tilted his head to his right side. “Isn’t that...Oh…” 

Bruce was almost amused how he could physically see the puzzle pieces fall into place in Clark’s mind.

“ _ They _ weren’t the only ones shot that day, I was too… Here…” He touched his left wing, near the shoulder of it, rubbing that same spot.

Clark reached out a hand, stopping to look at Bruce for permission, only placing his hand on where Bruce had just showed him when he received a slow nod in response.

Some of his smaller feathers bristled as Clark’s large warm hand ran gently along it. He realized suddenly he had never really let his wings be touched by anyone except family.

“It healed completely, yet every time I try to fly I’ve still felt pain in that exact spot. My wings are essentially completely useless, nothing but weights on my back.” He explained coldly.

Clark ran his hand up Bruce’s wing to the spot where it met his back thoughtfully. “Maybe it would help if you were nicer to them.”

Bruce snorted. “You sound like Alfred.”

“He tends to be right, I think I should be very proud if I sound like him.” Clark replied with a cheeky grin removing his hand from Bruce completely.

Bruce had the sudden urge to grab the man’s warm hand and pull it back, yet he wasn’t completely sure why so he resisted the urge.

“Hnnn…” was all he grunted in response.

He was greeted with a soft smile, a complete relief from the hurt, rage, and tears that had ripped across Clark’s face earlier. At times the man seemed so…  _ solid _ . Consistently optimistic and hopeful. Bruce still had to remind himself at times the man still experienced emotions on the negative side as much as anyone else. Perhaps even more so due to that deep neverending empathy and compassion the man carried in his heart at every waking moment that Bruce respected and admired so much. He wasn’t sure how to help at the current moment since he himself wasn’t an expert in healthy emotional expression, but knowing full well what repressed sadness could do to a person… he didn’t want something like that to happen to Clark, ever.

“Well you should know, whether you fly or not you’re still my best friend. I’m sorry for getting mad.”

Bruce reached up placing his hand on Clark’s shoulder. “Thank you. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you think I…” He swallowed hard and let the words come out “...that I didn’t care about you. Because I do.”

They shared a soft quiet moment before Clark perked up with an idea. “Do you want me to take you home? I could carry you!” He offered a bit too excitedly causing Bruce to jump a little in surprise.

“Tt… carry me…” Clark's arms were warm, and the ride over had been slightly miserable, but he wasn’t sure he was willing to let himself be carried around like a damsel.

“It can be a way for us to fly together! Except, you know… closer… I guess…” He said shuffling his feet quickly realizing how awkward and out of nowhere that must have sounded.

“I took the bat-plane over here.” He pointed out, which until now Clark thought he just took for long distances since he didn’t have powers to prevent being worn out like most people on the planet.

“I can drop it off in the cave for you after I drop you off!” He offered, bouncing on his heels slightly.

Bruce grunted. It  _ was _ dark out, and it would get him home quicker…

“Fine, I suppose I owe you for those flights we weren’t able to have.” He offered, pulling his cowl back over his face.

He found himself being immediately scooped up into Clark’s arms without another moment’s hesitation. 

“I wouldn’t say you  _ owe _ me at all, I just want to is all.” The man explained with a sweet smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes as he floated off the ground, spreading his wings and flying up through the gap Bruce had taken his fall through. The doors of the fortress opening up in accordance with the man speeding towards him and closing behind them as they soared off into the sky.

Bruce realized he had to look a little ridiculous, being carried bridal style by the man of steel while his cold wings furled around him in the man’s arms, puffing out in reaction to being back in the sudden cold. He put one arm over Clark’s shoulder, pulling them flush.

Strong arms wrapped firmly around him.

Protecting him.

Supporting him.

Always catching him when he fell.

_ Trust _ .

He let out a gasp before he could help it with a surge of adrenaline as Clark dove down from his upward trajectory, gliding as he gained speed before sending them cascading back up towards the sky, into the clouds, droplets of water dusting Bruce’s face.

He looked up into Clark’s eyes, and studied his features. Pale blue of the moon silhouetting his strong jaw and shining bright in his sky blue eyes. His breathtaking wings cut through the clouds and the wind like knives, smoothly and gracefully parting them at his command. In the sun the gold in his feathers was blinding, yet now, under the moonlight Bruce realized they glittered softly, hypnotizing him with a more gentle sort of beauty he had never seen or noticed before.

He had previously pulled the cowl back on to hide his face, but now as they soared through the air, as he was enveloped in Kal’s arms he carefully reached up and pulled it back off, curiously.

He closed his eyes as the air whipped through his hair and across his face, triggering a long lost feeling, a long lost memory of joyfully soaring through the sky, without a care in the world. He felt lightheaded, allowing himself to be lost in the feeling, remembering if only for a second what it might be like to touch the sky again.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that before…” Clark’s smooth deep voice echoed through his mind and snapped him out of his daze.

He looked at him startled. Had he been smiling? He hadn’t even noticed. That must have been why his cheeks started dully aching.

Clark chuckled, Bruce felt his chest rumble against him, causing his heart in his own chest to suddenly pick up its pace.

“Sorry, I guess I ruined it by commenting on it… It was nice.” He said with something soft in his voice that Bruce could have sworn was something akin to affection.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but drew a blank. So he simply closed it and tried to pretend his whole face hadn’t just turned red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, I guess trust falls really do help build relationships.


	8. Decent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What lies beneath the final resting place of those who have long since passed?

Bruce woke up in his bed after having possibly the best and deepest sleep in a very long time, possibly in his life. He realized he was still warm and snug in his blankets, wings agreeing with him by staying comfortably curled around him for once.

He realized with slight embarrassment he must have fallen asleep in Clark’s arms on the way back to Gotham.

Damn that man and his naturally comforting body heat.

He reached for his phone, peeking on eye at the time.

8:30 AM

A full night’s sleep, it was a miracle.

He suddenly felt a cold wet nose nuzzle his arm, it startled him for a second before he peeked under the covers and found Ace wagging his tail having burrowed under the covers.

“Hey buddy.” He greeted with a smile. The pup immediatly shuffled forward and began trying to lick his face. 

He chuckled and pet the dog’s head and pat his back happily. 

He rubbed at his eyes and sorted through his thoughts. What did he have to do today?

Oh… right… call Ricky.

He groaned and rolled over.

“I guess I’ve put it off long enough.” He told Ace who did nothing but look at him adoringly.

Seemingly right on cue, Alfred knocked on the door to announce his entrance, opening the door to wheel in with breakfast and coffee.

“Good morning master Bruce!” He said cheerfully and proudly.

Bruce stretched his arms over his head and shook out his wing. He smiled calmly at the man. “Good morning Alfred.”

“You should know, the Bat-Plane is safely and securely returned, and you have successfully slept a full eight hours.” He commented happily. 

He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he swelled a little with pride at Alfred being so approving of something that was as simple to some as just successfully sleeping a decent amount of time.

Bruce chuckled and sipped at his coffee, feeling oddly refreshed despite usually hating this time of morning. “I know, it’s a miracle. I’m going to need all that rest to deal with Ricky today.”

Alfred grimaced along with him. “If he does agree to connect you with this mystery miracle worker, might I suggest trying to convince him to allow you to bring someone with you?”

Bruce tapped his finger against his coffee cup thoughtfully. “I don’t want any of the boys and especially not Barbra anywhere near him.” His feathers bristled briefly. “I don’t want to subject them to him.”

After a moment, Bruce snapped his fingers. “Oliver. He’s had to suffer a few interactions with Richard too, and he’s in the league now of course.”

“A very wise choice sir.” Alfred approved while refilling the coffee cup that Bruce had already managed to empty without even thinking about it.

===

“Ricky!! You sound great!” Bruce quipped, smile as broad and fake as an ad for dental whiteners.

The man laughed triumphantly on the other end of the line. Gone was the gruff and worn sound that one’s vocal cords developed over time. He sounded young and chipper. It was a bit surreal for Bruce however,  his vocal mannerisms and slight accent more pronounced made him feel like he was listening to a shockingly clear recording of a 50’s news anchor. 

“Wait ‘till ya  _ see _ me Brucie, I haven’t looked this way in… oh gosh, over 40 years I think at this point! This man is  _ amazing _ I tell ya, he’s gonna change everything.”

_ 40 years? _

_ “ _ That certainly  _ sounds _ incredible. I’d like to see it for myself, since you offered.” He said dipping into the sweetest voice he could muster without hurling. 

“Ha!Your wings still all scraggly looking? He’ll fix you up with a snap of his fingers don’t you worry.” 

Bruce’s wings flapped briefly in annoyance behind him as he stood up from where he was sitting. Even if he insulted his own wings often that didn’t give anyone else permission to do it.

“He’s doing one of his sessions tonight, invite only kind of thing. But I’m a member now so I can invite you myself!” He boasted.

“ _ A member? _ ” Bruce said out loud, looking at Tim out of the corner of his eyes who had looked up from doing his homework at the long pristine dining table curiously.

“Wow Ricky that sounds really impressive! Do you think it would be okay if I brought Ollie along with me?” He continued.

Bruce immediately picked up the slight grunt of disappointment that he wouldn’t be wanting to go alone with him. 

“Queen? You still friends with him Brucie? He’s not exactly in your… ahh…  _ league _ .”

“He’s an old friend Ricky,  _ pleeaaaase? _ ” He begged causing Tim to cover his mouth to hold back a snort.

“Fine… He’s looking a little rough these days anyway, don’t say I never did anything for you. Both of you be ready at eight tonight and I’ll come get you, your place, right?” Rick finally agreed with a grumble.

Despite being ready to crush his phone in his hand he agreed in his most chipper voice. “You’re amazing Ricky! I can’t wait! I’ll see you tonight.”

He hung up and fell back in his chair, already feeling completely drained.

“Want me to get the Antacid tablets for you?” Tim teased. “I only heard half of that conversation I feel I need them.”

Bruce covered his hands on his face and grumbled. “Now to just convince Oliver.”

He was thankful when Oliver picked up his phone quickly, he wasn’t sure what he would do if the other man had been preoccupied when he had to strategize with him quickly.

“Hey! Bruce, been a while since we’ve chatted away from …  _ work _ , how are y-”

“What are you doing tonight?” He asked, already feeling the fuzzy mood he had felt waking up fading after expending so much energy trying to talk to Ricky and not give away that he wanted to strangle him to death.

“Well me and Dinah were going to…”

“Cancel it.”

“What?! I can’t just-! I-It’s date night!” He argued.

“This is  _ important…  _ and you owe me.” Bruce said sternly, tapping his foot impatiently.

“I… no I don’t! What do I owe you for?” Oliver pressed in exasperation. 

“You spilled coffee in my…” he couldn’t say the batmobile over the phone, he bit his lip. “In my  _ favorite _ car.”

“Oh for the love of… Bruce, you’re  _ still _ mad about that? That was months ago!” 

“You _promised_ _me_ you would be careful.” Bruce pointed out.

“I didn’t expect you to take that turn so quickly!” Oliver bit back. “It was like a  _ drop _ of coffee. You’re being overdramatic!”

“It was  _ more _ than a  _ drop _ Queen.” Truthfully, he  _ was _ exaggerating at this point, but still, there was a lot of sensitive equipment in the batmobile, and it wasn’t often he trusted anyone enough to bring any sort of liquid in there.  _ Dick _ had always been careful, never even spilled the tiniest bit.

“It’s _important_ _business_ Oliver, I need you to be with me tonight.” He pressed once more, hoping the other man would catch on.

“I can’t believe… you know what? Fine, fine, I’ll ask Dinah if we can do tomorrow instead. Where and when do you need me?” He asked, finally surrendering.

“Arrive here at the manor a few minutes before 8:00 PM. We’re going to be picked up, don’t go full formal but don’t be super casual either.” He ordered, checking his watch to see if he could get in a patrol with room for a potential mess to clean up before needing to get ready.

“Alright, alright, but you’re a petty asshole though, you know that?”

Bruce smiled and put on his most airy “Brucie” voice just to mess with him. “Awww Ollie!! It’s only ‘cause I  _ love _ the time we spend together.”

“Stop.” Was the last thing the man said before hanging up.

Bruce snickered to himself slightly. His ‘Brucie’ persona could feel unnatural and tedious at times, but it  _ did _ have its moments where it came in handy.

“Sooooo, when are you going to tell him your being picked up by Richard Bennett?” Tim asked with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk.

“I was thinking about a minute before he’s supposed to arrive so he can’t run.” Bruce replied with a dull hum before pocketing his phone.

 

\---

 

“Dinah wasn’t happy.” Oliver grunted as he straightened his tie.

“It was  _ important _ .” Bruce said again for what felt like the hundredth time. 

“Alright, you keep saying that, and I  _ want _ to believe you. So how about you tell me what’s happening?”

Bruce glanced towards the window where Alfred had been glancing at him ever so often anxiously for the past ten minutes. The last time he had noticed Alfred acting that nervous was the first time he ventured out as Batman.

“I have a possible lead to the person who  _ may _ be responsible for those horrific resurrections this past week. I don’t know for sure, and…  _ Alfred _ was insistent that I bring someone with me, and I didn’t want any of the family coming along.” He explained, now fiddling with his own tie.

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “ _ Bruce _ …”

Bruce switched on his alternate persona within an instant, a bright empty smile that feigned innocence taking over his features. “Yes  _ Ol-lie? _ ” He asked in a mock sing-song voice.

“ _ Who _ is picking us up?”

Bruce’s fake smile wavered. “Richard Bennett.”

“Oh Fuck me.” Oliver groaned leaning back against the door of the manor and covering his face with exasperation. “You couldn’t have I don’t know…  _ warned _ me earlier?!”

“You wouldn’t have come if I told you.” He pointed out, trying to keep his slightly cheeky tone to a minimum.

“Your  _ damn _ right I wouldn’t. The man’s an asshole!” He groaned running his hands through his hair.

“You think I don’t know that? At least he keeps his  _ hands _ to himself around you.” He pointed out, prodding Oliver in the chest to get the man to stand up straight.

He stopped and looked at Bruce, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Wait, he hasn’t  _ done _ anything to you has he?” He asked, leaning forward narrowing his eyes and balling his fists, already gearing up for a fight.

Bruce grimace. “So far the worst he’s done is make disgusting comments about my mother that had Alfred ready to blow his head off, but if you don’t  _ mind _ since he unfortunately may prove to be a connection to a bigger problem I would  _ like _ someone to be a barrier between me and him. I could handle him alone if he tried anything, but I’d have to break character.” 

“Fair enough.” Oliver conceded putting his hands up in surrender.

They both spotted the headlights of a car making its way up the long stretch to the gate of Wayne manor, so they both began their downward trek away from the mansion itself to meet it.

“So this guy looks 15 years younger now, right?” Oliver whispered.

“Try more like  _ forty  _ now.” Bruce hissed back before putting on a bright smile as a young man stepped out of the long black limo gleefully.

Neither of them were completely able to even try to hide their shock. As the man greeted them. They only thing about him that resembled the Richard Bennett that Bruce had the misfortune of knowing as long as he could remember was his long flat nose. Everything else painted him as a healthy adult, likely in his mid thirties. Full head of dark hair combed back in a way that made him look like he had stepped right out of a 50s sitcom - young and vibrant. A portrait of a time that should have been long gone and dead.

“Heeeeyyy Brucie.” He greeted immediately slapping Bruce on the back like they had been friends their whole lives before glancing to Oliver. 

“Queen.” He greeted as he pocketed his free hand. “Your looking decent.”

“ _ Wow  _ Bennett, I can’t believe its really you! What’s your secret? Virgin blood?” He suggested. Despite his smile Bruce could feel the waves of hate flowing vigorously through the air between them.

Bruce immediately smiled dopilly pulling himself away from Richard to lean on Oliver’s shoulder. “Thank you for letting me invite Oliver, Ricky. I wanted him to see this for himself too!”

“Yeah don’t mention it.” Richard rushed out bitterly, opening the long door to the car before putting on a snide smile. “You first Queen?”

Oliver immediately put his hand up and shook his head. “Oh, Actually I’d prefer to sit in the middle, I get sick if I can’t look out the front.” He replied with a laugh.

Bruce made a mental note to do something special to thank Oliver later and took the opportunity to hop in first, comfortably resting his wings in the gap between the seat and the back window before Oliver settled into the middle, ignoring the scowl on Richard’s face as he acted as a barrier between him and Bruce.

He was carefully taking note of every turn they took just in case something happened to the tracker he planted on himself, but Bruce had to try very hard to not take a sort of joy out of Oliver playing up his own persona more than usual just to piss Rick off further, knowing full well the man wouldn’t outright yell at someone Bruce had proclaimed to be a close friend in front of him.

They stopped in front of what appeared to be the oldest cathedral in Gotham. Soot dusted its stone walls from a fire that had blazed decades ago. As far as Bruce had known it was abandoned, the bell had been taken down and hadn’t rung in 20 years. The only reason it was still there was because it was considered a historical landmark. Bruce had used the bell-tower many times as Batman because it allowed him a decent view of Gotham harbor on his nightly patrol.

“You’ll have to forgive the outer appearance.” Richard announced as they slid out of the limo.

Rick then glared at Oliver who yawned and stretched his dusty light brown wings out, acting as if they had been cramped in Ricky’s car. Bruce smiled slightly and the quiet insult.

Out of his casual suit pocket Rick pulled a rusted key that by contrast had a golden chain attached to it. 

“I hope your not messing with me, I’m not a fan of…” Bruce eyed the large overgrown graveyard nearby with graves that had begun to deteriorate and fall apart long ago. “...such gloomy surroundings.” 

The key turned easily in the lock of the heavy wood door, Bruce stepped in first, followed closely by Oliver and then Ricky who locked the door behind them.

Bruce looked at Rick questioningly, the man still looked smug as he passed them, striding proudly across the dirty stone floor. Bruce ran his eyes along the stone arches filled with cracks and blackened with soot and ash as well as the ornate windows that had turned a dingy dusty yellow over time.

It was then that Ricky gave the altar at the front -which Bruce suddenly noticed was a lot less decrepit than the rest of the building- a solid shove, revealing a bright golden light and the sound of people chatting away down below.

“Ta-da!” Richard announced triumphantly taking an exaggerated stance like he was a used car salesman.

Oliver and Bruce met eyes for a long moment, hesitating as they pondered what they were getting into. Until finally, they followed Richard down the stairs into whatever lay below the old Cathedral, enveloped in a golden glow of light that seared through the dark of night.


	9. Regeneration

It wasn’t that much different from more casual galas Bruce had been to. Yet everyone in the brightly lit stone hall was distinctly dressed in bright white. It was only then that Bruce had noticed Rick himself had chosen to wear mostly white.

It was like looking at a sea of ghosts. He also noted that there was only one person who looked over the age of 50. It was a woman who was incredibly thin and pale, wrinkles running over her face and arms. She looked quite glamorous in Bruce’s opinion. Even if her hair was thin and white, she stood carried herself with her chin up. An element that screamed like she had once been a part of that era of time where hollywood was new and glamorous. Where the open secrets of its dark underside were not yet so open or acknowledged.

There were drinks and refreshments… no alcohol Bruce noted. All of his was decidedly bland and devoid of flavor, once again all incredibly  _ bright _ white and stale. Crackers, milk, cubes of white cheese, and sugar cookies. The sugar cookies were the most different because they were at least slightly off white.

“Ever been to a party where the main drink they were serving was  _ milk?” _ Oliver quipped, obviously having noticed the strange horderves at the same time.

Ricky immediately jumped into the conversation, practically gluing himself to the air around Bruce’s form.

“Oh that, I admit its a bit odd. But here its considered a symbol of… rebirth? I guess I should say. Its the first think we drink from our mothers after all.” Ricky commented before lifting a class of the stuff to his mouth and drinking deeply from it.

Bruce couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose, not even attempting to hide his disgust at the way he had described it. 

“Oohhhhkay, adding that to the list of things never to drink again.” Oliver mumbled under his breath.

Bruce couldn’t agree with him more. He scanned the room noticing it was full of tall white burning candles and drapery that was also a bright white. Bruce almost felt like he needed sunglasses to stop the strain in his eyes without how  _ bright _ it was.

It was then the crowd fell eerily silent without hesitation as a door on the far side of the hall opened slowly. Feathers bristled throughout the room in anticipation. Bruce blinked three times in quick succession to signal his contacts to begin recording for him. They only had so much memory, but he figured the man entering the room that made an entire crowd of wealthy elite fall silent was worth recording.

“Who is he? Is that the man you’ve been talking about?” He whispered to Ricky.

Ricky leaned a little too close to his ear for comfort in response to whisper back. “Yeah, that’s him Brucie, that’s Morning Star.”

_ “What kind of a name is that?”  _ Bruce thought. Though he supposed in his field of work he should be used to odd aliases at this point.

His hair was a wild curly brown stood out boldly in contrast to the clean pressed white outfit he was wearing that covered his full body. His top was a sort of half robe with a hood that was currently down off his head. However the suit itself looked almost grey compared to his blindingly white wings. The most odd thing about him however, were the clean bandages wrapped entirely around his eyes much like depictions of “justice” given human form. He walked confidently forward despite the supposed block to his vision. Bruce noted on the front he wore  symbol of what seemed to be a sun with a single black line at its base that ran down to where his robe was tied tightly with several long black strings carrying trinkets in the shape of other small symbols.

He smiled calmly, genuinely, before he began to speak.

“I thank you all for coming here once more tonight. Your presence is a gift.” His voice was calm and soothing, devoid of emotion in a way that was masked by a tone of blissful happiness.

Oliver shifted slightly closer to Bruce’s side as they eyed each other again. Bruce looked around the room realizing the others all gazed at this man with a sort of blind teary-eyed admiration that he found unsettling.

He lifted a calm hand up and unwrapped one of the bandages from his face, revealing one of his eyes, it was an unnatural silver color that scanned the room as soon as it was exposed to them. His smile widened slightly as his gaze drifted to the older woman Bruce had noticed earlier, who eyed him skeptically.

His gaze then settled on Bruce and Oliver who were feeling more and more unsettled and out of place by the second.

“I see we have some newcomers tonight, it is an even greater gift to have you here, even if you should decide not to return.” He calmly folded his hands together in front of him and walked towards Bruce. The crowd parted smoothly with his approach. 

Bruce tried to not look as nervous as he felt, yet what if the others were hypnotized? Or under his control? Was it really possible for them to be so enamored with him to the point they were compliant that easily?

“You, you’re Bruce Wayne.” He chuckled. “I recognize you from the tabloids.”

He was only slightly taller than Bruce, but it was enough so the man could look down past his greek nose at him.

A quiet laugh rippled through the crowd softly before dying down immediately.

Bruce met his smile with his own fake one as he slipped his left hand into his own pocket. “That’s me! Though I can assure everyone despite what they say I am definitely  _ not _ secretly an alien lizard man.” He joked.

It earned him a laugh from the crowd as well, but only after Morning Star himself laughed jovially.

“Its sweet of you to keep up a bright spirit for the sake of others.” He responded.

Bruce’s eyes flickered to the crowd and then back to him. Puzzlement clear on his face.

Before he could protest he suddenly had his right hand being taken by this strange man and held up in front of his chest. Oliver glared at him immediately but Morning Star Simply ignored him.

“It was to be a painful subject for you to acknowledge, I can sense your deeper pain that you yourself would rather not face.” Bruce’s throat tightened.

There was no way this man could sense anything, anyone could read a news article of “the Wayne murder” and take a stab in the dark with enough flowery language.

“Perhaps one day… you will allow me to lead you back to the light, but for now, consider this a gift from me.” He said soothingly, placing his other hand around the one that was already firmly clasped around Bruce’s much paler one.

Bruce was about to jump back in protest, but he suddenly felt a tingling along his wings span causing him to shiver as the feeling rippled across them.

Oliver watched completely stunned as new, healthy black feathers grew in immediately. Filling Bruce’s wingspan and restoring it not to just how it had been before he had begun to loose feathers faster than he was growing them, but to how they were  _ before _ the long nights, before many many wounds, before Batman. Oliver noted they looked just as thick, smooth and glorious as they did back when they knew each other in college.

Bruce stood frozen for a long moment as Morning Star walked away from him calmly, only giving a brief glance to Oliver as he left them.

Bruce slowly brought his left wing around in front of him, with shaky hands feeling the new feathers before giving one a gentle tug only to find it solidly attached with no plans to leave him abnormally without a lot of his own effort.

“Holy shit…” Oliver muttered.

Bruce gripped onto his wing briefly before letting it fall back behind him. Maybe he should have felt happy, or ‘grateful’, but he didn’t. 

It was then that he turned their attention to the older woman that Morning Star had gone to while they had been distracted with Bruce’s wings.

Oliver narrowed his eyes, watching as Morning Star placed one hand over her chest, one finger at her forehead. Immediately her wrinkles seemed to melt away as she was enveloped in a warm glow, he skin becoming healthy and vibrant, grey hair turning a pure silky black. Bruce and Oliver stood and watched in horror. The way she morphed was not unlike how those inky black beings and resettled into a full human form.

The crowd gasped in awe, and that was when Bruce recognized her. He had remembered seeing a picture of her. Angelina Davis -the reclusive actress that had long since disappeared from the public eye decades ago. It was theorized that she planned to die alone in her mansion, it was reported on that even her family had been banned from seeing her and completely written out of her will.

She staggered back with trembling hands, looking down at herself as tears welled up in her eyes. She began to sob as she leapt with youthful vigor and wrapped her arms around Morning Star who accepted her affection without so much as flinching.

“You must realize however my power is still limited, I must encourage you to have regular sessions if you wish to st-”

“Oh, Yes Yes Yes!” She sobbed. “I’ll pay anything,  _ anything _ , th-thank you! I can finally be  _ seen _ again!”

Bruce heart began to ache. The power he had just witnessed… amazing, and yet he wondered when she had broken down and told herself she couldn’t be seen as an old woman. When the world had gotten to her so badly that she had locked herself away from others because of her age. At Morning Star’s words he realized, why all these people were here, eating crackers and drinking milk, all wearing white and staring at him like he was their new god.

They were all terrified of age and decay, and he was using it.

No doubt just based off context they were all paying out unfathomable amounts of money for all these “sessions”.  His little “gift” for Bruce was no doubt a tease of what he could do, hoping that both Bruce and Oliver would be so entranced that they’d pay for more, to stay young, to stay vibrant.

Morning Star wrapped his bandage back around his exposed eye as he left the woman, who was now also looking at him completely starry eyed as she held herself in her own arms and black wings. He walked back up two steps to the slightly raised floor he had come in from.

“My friends, time is our greatest enemy, not death.” He preached looking over the crowd of admiring eyes dressed in white. “Death is simply the thing that comes to collect us once time has had its way. The thing that puts us to sleep when the cruelty and …  _ neglect _ of others rips life away from those we love.” He began. Bruce didn’t miss the bitterness that had slipped through his blissful calm tone at the word ‘neglect’.

“All of your support and love will not be all for not. One day soon, I hope that we shall soon never again loose the things we love. Our parents, our children, our youth, our  _ happiness _ .” He turned his head directly to Bruce as if talking to him and him alone. “We can soon even perhaps even bring what was once lost to Death back into the world.”

Excited chattering echoed throughout the room at his claim. Yet no voice held any tone of disbelief. For all they cared, he was a god,  _ their god _ … come to reclaim everything anyone had ever lost for them. 

\---

“What did I tell you Brucie? I mean your Wings were somethin’ special to begin with, but  _ now…” _

Bruce rubbed his hands together, grateful when the car stopped back at the manor, drained and exhausted from the evening, and eager to be able to talk privately with Oliver.

“He is… incredible.” He said absentmindedly. 

After they stepped out of the car, Bruce tried not to visibly cringe as Rick put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Well hey, if you decide you want to become a member, you know who to call… oh but, uh… keep it to yourself for now, he’s not ready to go public yet.” He added with a wink.

Bruce smiled back as best he could and pulled away. “Of course. You’re the  _ best  _ Ricky,  _ really _ .”

He didn’t feel like he could breathe until both him and Oliver were inside the manor. He practically walked right into Alfred, barely avoiding tumbling the older man over he was in such a rush to get inside.

“Master Bruce I’m so relieved to see you..!” Bruce was sure he could see Alfred visibly pale when he laid eyes on Bruce’s wings in confusion.

Oliver closed the door and leaned his head against the door. “Guess your hunch about that asshole getting younger being connected with that mess last week was right.” He heaved.

“I wish he hadn’t messed with my wings without permission. Even if they are like they  _ used _ to be.” He grumbled.

In response Alfred walked up to his left wing, Bruce stretched it out for him compliantly as he did so often. 

“Incredible… I can’t recall the last time they looked like this, they’ve seemed so much thinner…” He observed before meeting Bruce’s eyes. “However, you say he did this without your consent?”

“He claimed it was a ‘gift’.” He clarified with a slight eye roll.

“He was probably was hoping you were as vain as everyone thinks you are.” Oliver noted. “It was nuts watching healthy feathers shoot out of his wings like that, it was almost instantaneous.” He muttered pressing his hand against his head. “Then there was this other woman, she just went from being like… 80+ to barely 30 in just a few seconds… then there was the  _ milk _ .”

“The  _ what?” _ Alfred asked, eyes darting between both of them.

“The milk.” Bruce repeated, cringing before continuing. “I’ll compile what I found and took note of tonight and call a league meeting tomorrow. You should do the same.” He said.

Oliver nodded quickly in response. “Right…” he paused, eyes drifting back along Bruce’s wings. “That was freaky though… he acted like… like he somehow  _ knew _ you.”

Bruce shook his head. “He didn’t. At all. He was hot reading.”

“He was  _ what? _ ”

“Hot reading. Its a tactic used by fake ‘psychics’. Everything he assumed about me is based of easily available information. Knowing Rick’s tendency to brag and run his mouth, he would have  _ known _ I was coming, you were invited last minute. He ignored you completely.” He pointed out. “His abilities may be incredible, but he’s manipulating those people. If he had a pure goal in mind he wouldn’t be asking for  _ money _ , wanting them to be  _ members. _ It’s a cult.”

Without much thought they had both been quietly ushered into the nearest drawing room, where they both immediately fell back into chairs to full process the events of the evening.

Oliver’s chest heaved. “So it wasn’t just me that was getting cultish vibes from that.”

“Not at all.” He confirmed. “I have no doubt he does intend resurrection to be a new way he can exploit people’s vulnerability. We’ve  _ seen _ his experiments no doubt.”

“But why go that far?” Oliver asked. “He’s already got a ton of wealthy people probably dumping  _ tons _ of money onto him to relive their “glory days” with the ability he already has.”

“He may have another motive we’re not yet aware of. We don’t even know for sure if that money is only for him to spend on himself.” Bruce’s eyes drifted over to a large cabinet, eyeing a half empty whiskey bottle that was calling his name. 

“The whole thing felt off, just like those people being resurrected…” Oliver slumped forward, folding his hands together. “All of it just feels… wrong.”

Bruce looked back to him. “It’s an unsettling precedent. A world where the old and the greedy can afford to live longer and longer... The dead…” He looked down at the floor, suddenly finding the smooth wood very fascinating.  “...should stay dead.”

Oliver stared down at the floor  himself before his eyes drifted up to one of the many family portraits that always hung over Bruce’s head in seemingly every room he had ever been in with the other man in the manor. He then gazed at another smaller photo that sat affectionately next to a vase of white roses on a side table. It was one of a then much younger boy smiling proudly and gleefully. Jason.

“I’m not going to lie, I didn’t expect that last part to come out of  _ your _ mouth.”

The elephant in the room seemingly got even larger, turned a deeper shade of red. 

“...I need to take my contacts out.” Bruce replied, standing up. “You probably want to explain things to Dinah.”

Oliver stood up with him quickly, catching the hint. “Yeah, your right. Glad I could be your bodyguard against bennett for the evening.” he teased lightly to try and break the sudden tense atmosphere as he began to walk towards the door.

“Oliver…” Bruce called after him before he could get too far away.

The man stopped in his tracks and turned back to him with raised eyebrows.

“...Thank you.” He muttered with a sheepish glance.

Oliver smiled and gave him a mock salute as he continued his exit.

“Anytime…  _ Brucie _ .” 

With that, Bruce was once again left alone. He immediately made his way down to the cave, where he could compile the video from the evening and catch Alfred and Tim up on the events of the evening. 

He felt about as drained as he had after doing a drug bust in the middle of a cold rain. He tried as best as he could to push Tim to go to bed, despite being called a hypocrite several times, until he was finally at least able to convince the boy to at least “try” to rest, and assured Alfred he would be up to go to sleep himself soon after he finished making his notes.

\---

He flopped back in his chair, satisfied with the information he had compiled. He closed his eyes, thinking about the light feeling he had come home with only the night before that had carried over to the morning before the rest of the day had come to pass. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him, but he suddenly found himself pressing his hand to his league communicator. 

“Superman, are you awake still?”

Immediately Clark’s voice came through over the intercom. “Batman? Yep, late night for me. Are you alright?”

I’m fine, I just…” He stopped, hearing a quiet mew come from Superman’s end of the com. “...Is that a cat?”

“What?  _ No _ …”

He was lying. 

“ _ Clark _ .”

“… it’s a  _ kitten _ .”

“ **_Clark…_ ** _ ” _

“They were just left out in a box in an alleyway when it was about to rain! I couldn’t just leave them there!” He protested.

“ _ They?? _ ” Bruce asked accusingly.

That was when he heard a chorus of small mewls and Superman making soft cooing sounds at one kitten to return to its bed with the others.

He leaned back in his chair trying to convince himself that this wasn’t endearing or cute, and even if it  _ was _ he certainly was not about to let himself  _ gush _ over Clark saving a box full of kittens… and cooing at them softly.

“Boyscout.” He said back trying not to let his growing smile slip into the way he said it.

“You say that like its a bad thing.” Clark replied in amusement. “Seriously though, what’s up? Your not the type to used the com to just “chat”.”

Bruce bit his lip, feeling his face heat up slightly. “I just got back from following a lead with Oliver on the case of the resurrections. My hunch was right, we’re almost certain of it now. I’ll call a league meeting tomorrow.”

“Oh, cool… so… what did you need to tell me specifically beforehand?” Superman asked curiously.

Bruce stared forward at the batcomputer like a deer in headlights. He had never really just contacted Clark like this, not without a plan of what he wanted to say. 

“I… tomorrow morning, what are you doing?” He babbled without thinking.

“Tomorrow morning? Well its a Sunday, so… nothing until whenever you call that meeting, well… nothing  _ planned _ at least.”

“...Do you… want to get coffee?”

Bruce immediately wanted to pound his head into the wall, what was he  _ doing _ ? He reasoned he must be more exhausted than he thought to the point of being  _ loopy _ .

Clark was silent for a long moment, and Bruce heard nothing but mewing in his ear as his stomach twisted into seven more knots.

“ _ What’s wrong with me?!” _ He thought.

“Coffee… you want to get Coffee? What as Batman and Superman?”

Bruce could practically hear Clark smirking, and he hated it.

“Sure. Why not?” He said pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Are you  _ sure _ your okay Bruce?”

“I’m  _ fine _ .”

“Won’t Batman and Superman walking into a cafe look weird?” He asked.

“Less weird than Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent showing up together oddly enough.” Bruce pointed out despite Superman giving him a very easy out of this commitment he was trying to make.

“I mean, I’ll try anything at least  _ once  _ within reason, but  _ you’re _ usually the ‘no nonsense paranoid’ one. I feel like it would be out of character if I argued with you.” 

“I’ve gotten coffee as Batman before. Its been necessary. If you don’t want to then just…” He began, starting to get mad, not really at Clark but at himself for acting so ridiculous, he still wasn’t even sure what really made him want to call him over the com to him exclusively and no one else in the first place. 

Clark laughed and sent a tidal wave crashing into Bruce’s chest, melting his fuming away at least slightly. “No, No, I want to. I think it could be funny. I just… I mean, you usually have another motive…”

“I just…” He began, then stopped staring up at the cave ceiling filled with bats resting happily.

Just  _ what? _ He wondered. Just wanted to talk to someone? Just wanted to be with a  _ friend _ . Just wanted to listen to the other man talk?

“...want coffee.”

He could feel Clark narrowing his eyes suspiciously at him all the way from Metropolis to Gotham

“Alright Coffee-man, if you still want to in the morning call me and we can meet up.” He teased.

“Fantastic.”

He put his head in his hands after replying with that.

“ _ Fantastic _ . Sleep good B, you sound like you need it.”

“..Okay… goodnight…”

He then took out his communicator and threw it on his desk like it was the thing that had caused him to commit the atrocity that was that entire conversation.

He took himself up to bed in a trance like state, barely even acknowledging Alfred, or the fact he could still see Tim’s computer light on as he passed his room. 

He stripped off his clothing lazily and fell into bed, curling himself around a pillow, suppressing the urge to scream into it.

The stress and strangeness of the evening had gotten to him, he decided. 

That’s all it was.

It wasn’t that he thought hearing Clark’s voice would soothe him.

He certainly  _ did not _ find it endearing the the man was up late after saving a box full of kittens.

He was tired, that was all.  _ Tired.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kittens!!! Yay!!!


	10. Coffee and Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bright new day, and coffee and chilling with Superman.

 

Bruce woke up with a horrible feeling in his gut, having aftershocks both from the previous evening, and asking superman out for coffee. He tried to distract himself briefly by scrolling through his phone while he had his early morning protein drink, suddenly seeing Dick’s name as he had been looking through his missed texts.

He would have smacked his head if he hadn’t been holding his drink. How could he have done it again?! Gotten so wrapped up he had completely spaced keeping up with his adopted son like he  _ swore _ to himself he’d stop doing. He growled at himself angrily as he checked the 3 missed texts from Dick from yesterday hastily.

“ _ Hey, Sorry I missed your call. I’m alright, It was kind of freaky but I’m used to some crazy stuff. You?” _

_ “Don’t @ me being all like ‘I told you not to worry about me >:(((‘ I wouldn’t have to ask so much if you talked about it on your own more. Just sayin’.” _

_“You probably forgot to check your phone again. Txt me when you see this so I don’t have to ask Alfred if your brooding again.”_ _  
_ __  
Bruce rolled his eyes and glared at the screen but quickly texted back without a moment’s hesitation.

“ _ Weird week, but when isn’t it? I’m fine. And yes, I did tell you not to worry about me. So don’t.” _

He stared at the screen after he hit send. Did that sound too harsh or mean? Was it passive aggressive? He didn’t mean it to be. He had just wanted to comfort Dick, make sure he wasn’t concerning himself with him when he should be worrying about himself. Maybe he should be a little softer. He bit his lip.

“ _ What would Clark say? _ ” Clark always seemed to be good about inspiring hopeful speeches. He was a damn good writer and journalist after all… as well as… well… he was just  _ him _ . Even with all that strength and power he was always so sweet and kind.

He started typing “ _ I’m very proud of you for handling the situation. I want you to take care of yourself… Don’t mind me being a grump.” _ He read over his own text, thumb hovering over the send button. His heart pounded in his ears. Sure he had been thinking about what Mr. Sunshine Clark would say, but all of this… all of those words were things he wanted to say. But would it be too sudden? Would it feel insincere to Dick? Did Dick even want that kind of sentiment from him anymore? Maybe once… once when that boy looked up to him and was trying so hard to reach out for the familial love he’d lost… but now…

No… Bruce decided. It was too late now. He’d already failed Dick as a parent, it would be too little too late. Putting his unfinished drink on the counter, he deleted the message completely and replaced it.

“ _ Talk more later. _ ”

\----

 

“So,  _ Batman _ we still on for Coffee?” Superman’s chipper voice crackled over the communicator, snapping Bruce out of his last minute focus on his notes.

“I need it this morning. So yes.” Bruce replied trying to sound non-committal.

Clark had just given him an out, and he didn’t take it. He grimaced to himself, he hadn’t felt this awkward in ages. Unfortunately, a real friendship wasn’t something he could “Brucie” his way through. It had never worked on Harvey either, and he hadn’t even known about that little bat in the closet even if certain other things in Bruce’s closet had been seen by the man.

“Really? Well shoot! Color me tickled pink!” Clark practically squeaked in his ear. It was so odd Bruce snorted with a slight chuckle that decided to launch itself out of him before he could do anything about it.

“You’re such a country boy.” Batman replied trying to turn his almost-laugh into a complain-y grumble as he started stalking over to the batplane.

“You got a problem with that darlin’?” 

Bruce came to a screeching halt as he stared forward deliriously. Clark was joking around with him of course, the drawl was over-exaggerated and ridiculously stereotypical, but he’d never heard Clark full on talk deep and arguably  _ flirtatiously _ like that before. Even if he was putting on an act. He wasn’t sure what about it made him freeze and suddenly lose his ability to move his mouth. It was kind of a funny feeling really.

“...Bruce? You okay?”

Batman was humiliated as his next words came out in the most awkward of quiet voices he didn’t even know he was capable of. “I’m fine.”

“Uh… you sure?”

Bruce cleared his throat. He was being ridiculous. What was wrong with him? He charged forward determined to get to his destination of getting in the batplane, then flying to meet… Clark… for  _ Coffee _ .

He face planted briefly against the glass of the plane.

“ _ Pull it together. Batman doesn’t do… whatever the hell it is your doing right now.” _

If the symptoms persisted he was going to run a health check on himself for any irregularities.

He flapped his wings in irritation as he jumped into the cockpit of the plane and finally answered Clark with his composure back.

“Yes. I was looking at something. I’ll be meeting up with you soon. Batman out.”

He was sure he heard Clark starting to laugh his head off before he turned off his communicator with an annoyed grunt.

\---

 

They agreed on a small unassuming cafe in metropolis that Clark had scoped out. According to his tastes, the coffee was damn good, but it was in a bad place for foot traffic. They didn’t get too much business. It was as good a bet as any for doing something so ridiculously  _ domestic _ in Superhero garb. 

Maybe Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne could have pulled it off, but in the event they were caught and recognized… Clark’s more quiet unassuming identity had a lot more to lose than Bruce Wayne’s. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to lose any privacy his identity outside of superman allowed him. Not to mention the idea of Ma and Pa Kent being harassed with questions about what their son was doing with Bruce Wayne was something he wanted to prevent at all costs as well.

At least Batman and Superman had nothing to lose by being seen together. If they were caught, it wouldn’t irrevocably damage their reputation and identity. 

He got odd looks from the few people around that saw him standing at the corner of the building they agreed to meet at, just barely covered by the shadows of the roof awning, one of the few shadows he felt even existed in metropolis. He swore to himself he was going to find a place in Gotham too that was less…  _ bright _ .

Providing this didn’t turn out to be a horrible mistake - as he pointed out to himself.

He heard the familiar slight bang of Clark breaking back through the atmosphere in the distance.

“ _ 1… 2…” _ He counted to himself, and right on cue Clark landed beside him.

“Hey B, I see you found some shadows to hide in easily.” Superman teased with a grin.

Bruce grunted and stepped out begrudgingly into the light to walk towards the door of the cafe.

“Woah, B, Hey wait…” Clark said suddenly lightly touching his shoulder.

Bruce immediately knew what he noticed.

“Your…” Clark glanced at his wings, and Bruce ruffled them under the armor.

“I’ll tell you and everyone about it in the league about it in detail later. It was… a strange night.”

Clark tilted his head curiously but didn’t press further, following Batman’s dedicated charge forward into the cafe.

The bored and slightly fatigued looking barista turned her head to the door lazily - ready to do a standard greeting as soon as she heard the bell jingle - only for her eyes to grow wide as she quickly stood up straight to face them.

“Ca-Can I help you?” she stammered.

Bruce noticed Clark looking a little guilty, the gears ticking behind his eyes thinking that it would be ridiculous for them to be able to integrate amongst civilians in their current wares. Batman might have agreed with him earlier that morning, but at this point, they were already here, might as well see what happens. Bruce decided to justify it now by calling it a “social experiment” to himself.

“Large mocha, extra chocolate.” Batman said bluntly.

The barista slowly looked at Batman, then to Superman before slowly pointing in disbelief. “You… want… coffee? Uh… for here or to go?”

“Here. And yes.” Batman confirmed.

Clark began to shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other as they were stared at. Almost a minute passed before the barista shook her head, snapping himself out of her stupor of trying to figure out if this was really happening and not let the ebbing feelings of being starstruck inhibit her work performance in front of two of the world’s most powerful heroes.

“Wild. Okay, so large mocha - extra chocolate for you and uh…. For you?” She said gulping slightly as looked up into Superman’s eyes. Her own eyes practically shining with stars as she looked up at him in admiration.

“Uhh, oh! Caramel Latte looks good? Er, Large too if that’s okay.”

“ _ If that’s okay… _ ” Bruce thought, repeating the line to himself. “ _ It’s not like you don’t have permission to have a preference boy scout. _ ”

“Of course!” The Barista beamed. “I’d… be happy to give you both drinks on the house…” She began swirling circles with her finger on the counter as she grinned from ear to ear.

Both Batman and Superman managed to answer “Please, I insist I pay.” At the same moment (though Bruce didn’t bother with the ‘please’ in there) They looked at each other slightly startled, the barista looking between them curiously. Bruce then cleared his throat.

“Neither of us want special treatment.”

“But we appreciate the offer!” Clark added jovially somehow already having cash pulled out to pay for his drink.

Bruce fumbled with one of his belt pockets pulling out his own, knowing Clark well enough at this point that if he offered to pay it was going to wind up in them arguing over who should be paying for who, and he didn’t want his “billionaire” to start showing as Tim put it.

The barista took their payments kindly and smiled at them both. “I’ll have them right out for you both!” Deciding she was going to make the best damn coffees she ever made in her life.

When she turned her back, Bruce slipped a $100 tip in the jar and walked with Clark to find a seat, deciding on a round table with two slightly cushioned seats near the back. Bruce found it a little awkward to be doing something non action related in the batsuit, but after adjusting himself a little he made it work.

He turned to Clark only to feel slightly blinded by the man beaming at him, his hands folded on the table.

Clark had dimples when he smiled, why had he never noticed that before?

“ _ So _ , how’s being Batman?” Clark asked leaning back and forth in his seat slightly restlestly while never removing that gleeful bright smile from his face.

“Just Super….man…” He replied without thinking.

Why did he say that? Was he channeling Dick and his endless puns all of the sudden??? Why did he have to say it so awkwardly too while fiddling with his glove? He never wanted to scream more in his life. Maybe he should start doing heavy metal for stress relief.

Clark chuckled and shook his head. “Wow.”

He had made Clark laugh, so that was good right? Even if it was at his own expense. His mind that was usually his greatest asset was suddenly working against him. How did conversation work again?

“Don’t hate me for asking, but are you  _ sure  _ your okay B?” Clark asked, still smiling with a raised eyebrow as he leaned forward on the table.

“I’m…” He started to get annoyed, he then stopped and drummed his fingers on the table then took a deep breath. “I’ve been generally off my stride lately.”

Clark looked surprised, despite asking he knew on some level he was likely able to get an “I’m fine” in response.

They paused, as their drinks were brought over, it was clear the barista had been very thorough and meticulous with them. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She said, staring with a slight grin a little bit longer than was normal at them both before letting them be.

“D…  _ Nightwing _ seemed pretty worried about you, even though I was… er, caught up being mad. I mean the way those things disintegrated, I was a little shaken up by them but… is that maybe?” He posited, talking quietly and vaguely.

“No…” He paused, biting his lip as he thought. “ Well… maybe. That might be part of it.” He responded thoughtfully, bringing his coffee to his lips to take a long sip.

He stared down at it for a moment. It was a  _ very  _ good mocha. 

Clark mirrored him tasting his own latte, leaving half the cup empty before taking a pause and licking some of the foam that had made its way to his upper lip.

Bruce found himself staring, it must be nice not to worry about your tongue burning on hot coffee.

“So you feel off, but your not sure why?” Clark asked with raised eyebrows.

Batman nodded. “I took a hit from kite man and another one from the penny plunderer the week before. That should say it all.”

“ _ The Penny Plunderer _ ?” Superman suddenly grinned. “Wait, I haven’t heard about this one!”

Bruce found the corner of his lips turning up slightly. He leaned back in his chair a little bit more casually, taking another sip of coffee. “He steals  _ pennies _ . Its almost not worth my time.” 

“For real?”

“For real. With the way the arkham inmates tend to be reported on Gotham news there tends to be a lot of copycats hoping to make a name for themselves. He saw Two-Face’s coin gimmick and put his own strange and underwhelming ‘twist’ on it.”

Clark hummed thoughtfully and drank the rest of his coffee. “You know, I remember dealing with a fella calling himself “the prankster”. He was more of an annoyance than anything. He’s the only copycat criminal I’ve seen, and I  _ think _ he might have been trying to be another joker.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, there’s  _ plenty _ of those.” He then looked at Clark coyly. “I’d say a lot of the reporters for the daily planet do a pretty good job not glorifying villains. If only Gotham was so lucky to have a news staff like that. Your reporter friend must be really doing his job well.”

He was thrilled as Clark turned a shade of pink at the roundabout compliment, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked towards the other side of the room. 

“O-Oh! Yeah, I guess so!”  

Bruce leaned forward on the one hand, his cheeks were aching a little bit, he realized he was still smiling, he didn’t quite care to stop at the moment, it wasn’t as if it wasn’t  _ true _ . He thought it a bit of a triumph making the world’s most powerful man and more importantly  _ Clark _ blush. And well… maybe some of it was revenge for the man somehow managing to cause his mind to blue screen for a brief moment.

“Gotham probably really needs a guy like that Clark Kent fellow especially.” Batman added, pressing further.

Clark’s cheeks went from pink to pure red. “You think so?”

“I  _ know _ so, he’s a damn good writer, not to mention he has a talent for bringing a bit of motivation or calls to action for even the most dire of situations.” Bruce finished off his coffee with a coy smirk on his face.

Clark’s whole face was now different shades of red and pink. “You really think that highly of… of  _ Clark Kent?” _

“I’ve told you before, I don’t say things like that if I don’t mean it.”

“O-Oh, I’m sure he’d be  _ very _ flattered to know you think that of him.” He stammered, suddenly finding the ceiling very interesting.

Bruce chuckled softly, warmth spreading across his chest as he witnessed how his words that were nothing more than the truth in his eyes made the big blue boyscout turn bashful and start gushing.

“Really? Then maybe I’ll make a point to tell him more in the future.” He added in a hushed deep voice.

“ o h…” Clark squeaked out. “I’m… I’m sure… he wouldn’t mind that…”

They soon took their cups to the bus bin, only for the barista to insist they both take a small box of macarons that had just finished baking with them. Clark noting excitedly that they smelled delicious, particularly the strawberry one - because of course he could pick out the individual flavors with his superhuman sense of smell.

When they walked out Bruce looked briefly back at the cafe. “I have to say… that was the best damn coffee I’ve ever had.”

Clark floated beside him, following Bruce to where he had hid the batplane. “Really?  _ Ever? _ I mean I thought so too but I figured  _ you’ve _ had some sort of exotic coffee carefully brewed and  _ infused _ with flavor and mixed with milk from ireland or something.”

Bruce shook his head, amused at the notion. “Just because something is more expensive to make and import doesn’t always make it  _ better _ .” He said peering at Clark jovially before hopping into the batplane. 

Clark followed next to the batplane as Bruce took off, both of them flying side by side as they broke the atmosphere together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a fluff chapter as a breath of fresh air. AND IM FINALLY WORKING ON THE FIC AGAIN! I'll try to be more regular about it again, just got sidetracked, oo ps.


	11. Beneath

Everyone tried to act as if they didn’t notice Batman and Superman walking side by side into the meeting room. If Superman had walked next to anyone else, no one would bat an eyelash. Yet Batman seemed to always make a point to enter a room as far away from everyone else as possible, providing he didn’t just decide to appear out of nowhere or out of the shadows. Even when working as a group he’d stay back and away from the rest.

So they noticed.

They definitely noticed.

Clark seemed confused at the triumphant beaming smile Diana was sending towards Bruce. While Bruce pointedly looked away from her smile, he did make a mental note to show his appreciation to her later for pushing him in the right direction.

“So, what happened? Green Arrow was staring at a glass of milk I was drinking this morning and muttering under his breath.” Hal asked, flopping back in his chair with an amused huff.

“He has… good reason to. Though its not the most troubling thing we came across.” Batman began, taking out his flash drive he had prepared that morning.

Clark sat down at the head of the table, watching Bruce intently as he brought the footage up from the previous night.

“They were meeting underneath an abandoned cathedral in Gotham, “invite only”. It was filled with the wealthiest people in Gotham, as well as another few wealthy faces I recognized from out of town.” He prefaced before playing the recorded footage.

_ “Yeah, that’s him Brucie, that’s Morning Star.” _

“What kind of name is that?” Barry interrupted quietly as the man came into vision.

“Isn’t that another name for the devil?” Hal questioned, leaning in with a squint.

Bruce paused the footage, humming briefly before responding. “Yes, however - It’s also a name that’s ironically been given to both Jesus and Mary in terms of Christian beliefs. However, more broadly - its the name given to venus, since it can appear as a bright star during the day.” He pointed out, sifting through his own research on the name. “At its core its most commonly through many cultures to represent a “bringer of light”, which is why I believe he goes by that alias.” He explained thoughtfully before continuing the footage for them all to analyze.

_ “Its sweet of you to keep up a bright spirit for the sake of others.” _

He noticed Hal stifling a snort. Obviously wondering why anyone would ever see ‘spooky’ that way. He shrunk down a bit when Clark and Diana both managed to glare at him at the same time. Bruce gave them an odd look wondering why they felt the need to do that, but didn’t pay it much attention.

It was the next sentence in the recording that noticeably caused everyone’s blood to run cold as Bruce’s had in the moment.

_ “It has to be a painful subject for you to acknowledge, I can sense your deeper pain that you yourself would rather not face. Perhaps one day… you will allow me to lead you back to the light, but for now, consider this a gift from me.” _

Bruce turned his head slightly, noticing Clark leaning forward -covering his mouth and glaring at the screen in a way he only ever saw personally when he was focusing enough raw aggressive energy to send lasers shooting out of his eyes at his target.

Diana sat straight up in her seat, watching with wide eyes as the footage showed Bruce’s admittedly slightly panicked shaking and wild dash of his eyes, wings just barely in the camera’s view as they shivered and shuddered as the new healthy feathers grew in and revitalized themselves unnaturally.

“That’s why…” Clark glanced over at Batman with furrowed brows and locked jaw.

Oliver’s “ _ Holy shit” _ managed to be just barely audible.

“Same though.” Barry muttered.

It wasn’t over, Bruce was just waiting for the older woman’s age to melt away right before their eyes and fall into her “savior's” arms sobbing.

Needless to say, Jaws were dropped - as well as a pen Barry had been fidgeting with.

He paused again, noticing some…  _ thoughts _ were building up.

“He just  _ did _ that?” Hal choked.

“How??” Barry echoed.

“She was a very graceful woman in her own right, I mourn she felt like she had to hide simply for her age.” Diana spoke, hanging her head slightly.

“What’s even more concerning is him wanting her back for more  _ sessions. _ Whatever this is, its not permanent - either by design or on purpose he’s  _ using _ that. _ ”  _ Batman added, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right.

He continued the footage, right up until they were leaving and Bruce turned his camera off.

“This is a  _ cult _ .” Diana said out loud, everyone nodding in agreement.

“Is that what the milk was about? Is that their  _ koolaid? _ ” Hal asked in horror.

“Somewhat, it has a sort of symbolism in their group I’d rather not think about, along with white crackers, white cheese, and sugar cookies. However I tested them back at the cave, there’s nothing unusual about them… Aside from the milk being about a day from going off.” Batman explained, reiterating by bringing some of his data up for J’onn and Clark who would both no doubt want to look at it themselves.

“Let me guess, some kind of…  _ purity _ thing, am I right?” Diana quipped, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes. What gave it away?” Batman asked tilting his head, only to straighten it realizing he had made the same sort of gesture Clark did when he was curious or observing something.

“Nothing specific, just something I’ve seen  _ one too many times _ in my life.” She said crossing her arms with a sigh, light in her eyes momentarily growing more tired looking.

“Okay, so this guy is making rich people younger, and from his little speech at the end is almost completely definitely the guy trying to raise the dead and scaring the crap out of everyone. What do  _ we _ do about it?” Hal asked, leaning forward.

“It needs to be nipped in the bud, even assuming the …  _ purest _ of intentions, there’s no way I could see this going well.” Bruce paced around the room as he ran through his thoughts he had already been meticulously turning over in his mind. “”Best” case scenario: Let’s say the availability to the wealthy is only temporary.  _ They  _ made a cult around him instead of the other way around - an  _ entire _ population of what is essentially immortals could be disastrous.” Batman said, leaning forward on the table, a firm disconnected stare in his eyes.

“I mean, no death right? Wouldn’t that make our job a lot easier? I mean if criminals can’t kill people then…” Hal began, an almost hopeful glint in his eye.

“Maybe… or  _ maybe _ that just means people get  _ creative.” _ Batman interrupted, wanting to stamp out that spark before it could light. “I’ve already mentioned to Superman the disturbing idea that we can’t inevitably count on natural death to rid the world of someone like Lex Luthor. That goes for someone like  _ Joker _ too.” He pointed out. “If someone wants to be cruel and get what they want, they’ll find a way. If this reached the ultimate peak- you could continue to torture someone endlessly until they gave you what you wanted.”

“Not to mention the already existing problem on Earth of over-population would no doubt worsen.” J’onn added. “If he succeeds in resurrecting the dead as well, that problem could suddenly become astronomically more dire.”

“Not to mention the kind of civil discourse that could occur with people scrambling to this man hoping to reclaim a lost loved one, especially with that population issue. What if the world’s governments were to place restrictions on who would be brought back or not? Who gets to decide who is worthy of  _ breathing _ again?” Batman continued, bouncing off of J’onn’s thought.

“I’ve seen first hand the kind of trouble and effects immortals can do to each other. While it pains me to see others I love…” Diana paused, closing her eyes briefly and taking a deep breath. “...no longer exist on this mortal plain, An entire world full of them would be far worse than the pain death brings.”

Batman nodded in agreement, looking to Superman as he got up from his chair to look at them all. It was the first movement to speak he had in quite a while since the video ended. “I suggest that our first action should be to confront him. Based on his speech, it sounds to me as if he’s acting from a place of personal pain… possibly grief. He may be smart enough to manipulate the wealthy and the desperate, but It’s not yet clear if he has a purely malicious motive or if he’s even considered the damage he could do.” 

“I mean, if your going to all that trouble how can you  _ not _ notice?” Barry asked, crossing one leg over the other. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I don’t think that’s the wrong way to go, I’m just wondering how realistic it is he doesn’t have  _ some _ idea he’s doing something wrong.”

“Many people deal with grief in different ways.” Bruce began, a little bit too quickly at the end of Flash’s question. “Sometimes it can cause you to retreat inside yourself, become narrowly focused - sometimes drive people to extreme lengths. You can’t see the forest for the trees. Superman’s suggestion he may just be ignorant of the damage he could do isn’t an unrealistic one.”

Barry nodded, before looking down at the ground.  “Yeah, your right Bats, I guess I should know that pretty well by now too, huh?” He said, trying to look up and smile awkwardly.

After a moment of silence, Clark cleared his throat, ready once again with a plan of action. “Then I suppose the first place for a few of us to go would be where that meeting took place.”

Batman nodded, thankful Clark was on top of things. “Agreed. If no one is there, I wasn’t able to get to the room he came out, so there may still be something back there that might lead us to other potential hide-outs.”

“There’s one thing I’m worried about…” Barry said, starting to bounce his knee as he sat. “That thing he said about you… I mean… you don’t think he’s psychic or something do you? What if he can just figure everything out about  _ all _ of us effortlessly?”

Before Bruce could even say anything, Clark managed to speak up first before him, catching him off guard.

“No, I don’t think he is. I think he made an educated guess based off what’s publically available on Bruce Wayne.” He said uncharacteristically sternly.

Hal shrugged. “I mean, he can do all that crap, what’s so unrealistic about adding being psychic to the mix. It  _ sounded _ pretty accurate to me, well, except for the bright personality, but that could have been for the audience’s sake.”

“Maybe on a  _ surface _ level, if you don’t really know him.” Clark said a bit more sternly. Bruce raised an eyebrow under his cowl, wondering if Clark knew how condescending it sounded. “If he  _ really _ had any clue who he was, he wouldn’t have been talking like that. For one he’d be more straight to the point without the flowery language, even with others around. There wouldn’t be anything odd about being direct with someone in business anyway, and more appropriate if you really want Bruce to hear you out. He also wouldn’t have done that with his wings if he knew any better. Period.”

“What makes you so sure?” Hal contested, sitting up a little straighter in his chair, as if trying to challenge him. “I mean sure yeah I can’t really see spooky responding well to someone talking like that, but maybe that’s just how he  _ talks _ .”

Bruce shook his head. “Superman pointed out exactly what I told Green Arrow the other night. He’s cold reading. If nothing else he’s a master manipulator. He’s good at being vague enough that if someone  _ wants _ to see something there, they will. He was assuming I’d be vain and vapid - while taking a stab in the dark at something he could potentially  _ use. _ ” 

“That’s true.” Barry agreed. “I mean at the end there, since he was talking about trying to resurrect people…” he began.

Bruce’s next words were practically spat out through his grit teeth. “Someone as high profile as Thomas and Martha Wayne coming back from the dead would be huge for him. If he succeeded, in one single move there’s not one person who wouldn’t know about it and be interested. From what Rick and he implied, he isn’t planning to stay private forever. Not to mention he may have a fantasy about how  _ grateful _ the Wayne family would be to him for  _ reuniting _ them.”

No one needed to argue any further.

Hal nodded, leaning back again, conceding his point. “Yeah, your right. If he was psychic he would know better than to mess with spooky over here.” He teased, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Exactly.” Batman added, tone drifting away from its previous sour bitterness. Deciding to indulge Hal’s additude just this once. Maybe help alleviate tension rather than create more of it. Though he immediately regretted that decision at the big beaming cocky smirk that was proudly placed across Jordan’s lips and the way his brown wings were suddenly held exceedingly high.

“Alright, B, J’onn, Diana, I think the four of us should be the one to leave to confront this guy.” Clark suggested. “Everyone else should be on call in case we’re surprised and things get ugly.”

With little to no argument, the meeting adjourned and the four heroes immediately left, target set towards Gotham. 

This time, instead of going a round-about way, Bruce flew the Batplane right between Clark, Diana, and J’onn. J’onn didn’t naturally have wings at all, yet he floated regardless. In disguise, he often made himself an unassuming pair of grey wings that hung uselessly from his back. Bruce felt a sort of quiet kinship with him in that regard, even if having useless wings didn’t affect J’onn’s ability to fly in the slightest. J’onn had never judged Batman for his lack of flight, the focus on wings as a status symbol was even odder to him than it was to Bruce or anyone else. Bruce had never told him, but he had never attempted it to hide it from J’onn either… he knew just from a glance months and months ago that he knew, but both respected Batman and thought the culture confusing enough to never bring it up or acknowledge it outside of that one idle gaze of understanding. One detective to another.

“Looks like its drizzling in Gotham.” Clark remarked as they all landed a decent way away from the cathedral. He held out an open palm, catching a single raindrop in it as if to emphasize his point.

“If it’s not raining, its cloudy. The last clear day was…” Bruce paused as he hopped out of the plane, ruffling  his wings in preparation to fit them into the full cover armor and cloth he usually only wore when he couldn’t risk even a single feather being dropped or exposed. He was admittedly struggling a bit, he hadn’t built it with having full expansive healthy wings in mind. There was a lot more to fit into it all of the sudden. “... I can’t really remember actually.” Bruce admitted.

Clark’s hand then carefully touched his right wing, helping it slide into place inside the cloth, then ran his eyes over Bruce’s back, examining where the wing covers were meant to fit to the armor on Bruce’s back with some flexing room.

“It attaches just…” Bruce gestured behind his back, allowing the help without protest much to both Diana and J’onn’s slight surprise. “Yes, there… thank you.”

Clark beamed his sweet bright smile at B as he turned around, practically hitting Bruce in the face with his kind grin. Bruce thought he was hallucinating as a brief crack in the clouds seemed to send a beam of light shining down on Clark as he stepped out of the alley they had landed in. He must have, it left almost as quickly as it came after-all.

Regardless, they immediately made their way to the door of the cathedral. 

Bruce looked up at it as Clark decided to just push the heavy door open, not worrying as the lock broke and the slightly decayed wood splintered and buckled. It had looked so ominous at night, yet now even under the cloudy skies of Gotham it looked less like something out of a slightly corny horror movie and more… simply old and forgotten. Vines were winding their way around stone statues, moss growing on the cracked gargoyle statues above them. 

They entered the hall and Bruce immediately moved the alter out of the way, just as he had seen done the previous night, revealing the stone steps descending into darkness rather than the bright soft glow of the previous night. 

The four wandered down, Bruce pulling a flashlight from his belt, cautiously allowing Clark to scan the room first before turning it on to see where he was stepping. 

The wares from the previous night had been left behind. Superman had covered his nose as the putrid smell of rotten milk was all the more strong to him. Bruce wrinkled his own nose as the smell finally touched his senses as well, finding the source as soon as he did, a cup that had been dropped one the floor and simply left to rot overnight.

He narrowed his eyes at it, Diana kicked the cup off to the side in disgust. He stopped at he saw Clark scanning the back wall.

“See anything?” He asked in a hushed voice.

“There’s a long hallway behind that door, a  _ really _ long hallway. It looks like it leads further down. I don’t hear anyone nearby either.” He replied, leaning his head in Batman’s direction.

Diana took the lead, tearing the door away and throwing it to the side, bowing her head with a teasing smile as she gestured for the men of the group to go on ahead.

True to what Superman had seen, the hallway was much longer than expected. Not only that but it was  _ narrow _ , only getting narrower as it dipped down into a flight of stone steps. Bruce’s shoulders began to scrape against the walls, Clark had to follow behind them side stepping, his own shoulders too broad to avoid not getting stuck… or rather, in his case likely bring the whole hallway down on top of them. He grimaced and mumbled something under his breath as he tucked his wide wings close to his body.

Bruce felt his chest grow heavy, starting to  _ really _ not like the lack of space and breathing room. Clark, Diana and J’onn were all now starting to have to duck down to avoid banging their heads on the roof.

“He seemed decently tall, he really made his way up here this way?” Diana questioned, a slight annoyed grumble to her voice.

Bruce let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as the hallway finally exited into a stone platform that sat high above in a seamingly massive room. They could hear the constant drip of water somewhere, and the cool draft and the ceiling high above them and the floor far down below immediately clued Bruce in to where they were as he scanned the ceiling.

“I don’t believe it.” He uttered almost in awe.

He was suddenly quietly grateful for his present company as Clark hooked an arm around his waist and gilded with Bruce down to the floor as the others flew down as well. He didn’t have to interrupt his own observations with trying to come up with an explanation of why he couldn’t fly down on his own.

He wandered forward a little bit, shining a light down the massive tunnel, finding a large gap and abandoned bent steel and half built railway only confirmed his suspicions.

“It looks like an abandoned subway system.” Diana commented.

Bruce nodded. “It is… but not only that… I can’t believe this is still here.” He was starting to feel a bit giddy with awe and curiosity.

He cleared his throat, all too ready to info dump on his friends. “This was the most ambitious and expensive project ever undertaken in Gotham. It began in the early 1900s, it was meant to be a massive and elaborate subway system - but they ran into too many safety and logistic issues and ran out of money. The whole project was shut down and every entrance was closed up.” He looked down both ways, now struggling to keep his voice hushed and deep from excitement despite forcing himself to do it anyway. “Even I never found an entrance to it.”

“You? Not know a part of Gotham? No wonder your excited.” Diana smiled at him hands on her hips.

 Clark crossed his arms and watched Bruce observe his surroundings with an affectionate smirk. “Excited? He’s ecstatic, his voice even went up a little, that’s when you  _ know _ its good.” 

“The only problem is, these tunnels are supposed to be numerous and stretch out for several miles.” Bruce pointed out before pausing, looking over his own shoulder back at Clark with a small smile that was dangerously close to reaching ‘brucie’ levels of dripping with a teasing sort of mock sweetness. “Except for the man of steel I’m sure?”

Diana almost snorted as Clark seemed to literally puff out his chest at the dark knight teasingly requesting his aid in a noble quest.

Bruce felt the air whip at his face as Clark vanished in a blur, coming back not a moment later. “I think I found something.” He took Bruce’s hand and Batman allowed himself to be hoisted up into a sort of strange half hug that had him plastered at Clark’s side as he flew west into the tunnel, following the rusted and rotted rails before taking a sharp turn south.

J’onn and Diana followed close behind as they came to what would have been an entrance to control room or an area meant as a shelter. The walls were covered in dingey yellow tiles, excepting the many gaps and places where they had fallen off or simply never put up to begin with. There were stairs on the far side that led up into concrete, no doubt where the entrance had been completely sealed up long ago. 

Yet strewn about everywhere were half burnt candles and papers strewn about every which way.

Batman bent to carefully pick one of the papers up, only to find several circles and lines drawn all over the paper, it would have seemed random and hectic were it not for the extremely precise clean way every mark was drawn.

It was then he decided to take out one of his devices to correlate exactly where under Gotham they were, following a hunch.

The others were also looking around curiously. J’onn strode into the center of the room, only to completely freeze and back up, seemingly disturbed by something.

“What is it?” Bruce asked, walking to stand by J’onn’s side.

“It’s… there’s almost a sort of emotional residue in this part of the room. I’ve never felt raw emotion  _ disembodied _ like that before. It was clear and yet felt like a distant echo at the same time.” He took a few more uncomfortable steps back, something about the spot entirely not enjoyable to be near.

It was then Batman decided to show them all their location. “We’re right under the spot where that man was resurrected, only to dissolve into ash.”

Clark grimaced at the memory. 

Diana glanced up at the ceiling, her eyebrows furrowed as she did. “Hang on, do you see that? The spot on the roof above where J’onn was talking about looks darker than the rest.”

Bruce turned his light up to it, and low and behold, the ceiling had a solid round stain that was  pitch black, seemingly burned into the concrete above.

It was then Clark froze, and stepped beside his friends. “Someone’s coming.”

He scanned around as the others stood on their guard.

“There’s another hidden door on the far side of the room.” He whispered to them. “I can see him… It’s…”

A hidden panel on the wall slid open, and Morning Star stepped out, candle in hand as his froze and looked at them mid hum. The bandages that had been around his eyes were nowhere to be seen, yet he was still clad in his white garb that harbored no stain or imperfection. He stared back at them through the curly strands of brown hair that drifted down in front of his face, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to all the wonderful people in the SWB discord server for always being so encouraging and inspiring, especially when I find myself hitting a road block with this fic. ~<3


	12. Revelations

“I knew you’d show up here sooner or later.” He strode into the room almost casually, as if he were at an office and the league members were there to talk about saving 50% or more on car insurance or something.

“Especially after that mess I made that I’m sure you’re very upset about. I can’t blame you. That did go horribly wrong.” He said with a calm sigh, yet his smile never wavered. “In fact I was thinking 

His smile was off-putting to Bruce. Not in the way the joker’s was. The Joker’s grin was wide and manicle, with teeth so yellow Bruce sometimes had the  urge to drop off some whitestrips at Arkham. No, Morning Star’s smile was almost  _ sweet _ and friendly. It shouldn’t  _ irk _ him, but there was something about it he didn’t like.

It was then that he sat down before them. Making no move to fight, resist, or do anything aggressive. Bruce had to blink a few times as the man had plopped down in a cheap looking plastic seat he hadn’t even noticed was there, perhaps it hadn’t been. The man then tapped on his wrist three times and every candle in the room lit, bathing them all in a warm glow. J’onn tensed and backed up against the wall, but said nothing.

“I’m sure you have lots of questions, or maybe you want to arrest me for creating a public disturbance? Or you’re worried about the behavior of some of those coming to me for help? Frankly, I think I’ve gotten myself in a little over my head too.” He said nonchalantly leaning forward, setting his head in his hand. He briefly scratched at his precisely groomed anchor beard seemingly out of habit. Batman felt more like Morning Star was analyzing and questioning them rather than the other way around.

Wonder Woman removed her lasso from her belt, not convinced by his seemingly pacifist and cooperative nature. She gripped it tightly in one hand as it began to grow. “The lasso will compel you to speak your truth. Do you accept it willingly?” She commanded him more than really asked.

He looked up at her curiously for a moment before shrugging and reaching out, allowing her to loop it around the palm of his hand, willingly gripping onto it.

Batman and Superman exchanged glances. After the kind of manipulation they were both were certain he was doing when Batman had been in his presence as Bruce Wayne, his corporation was both unexpected and suspicious. This man had to be duplicitous in some way.

Diana began the questioning soon after.“So you’re  _ aware _ what your doing is questionable?”

“I’m  _ certainly _ aware that I made an egregious error that was no doubt terrifying to civilians. I intend to make up for it one way or another.” His eyebrow raised. His brown eyes were so light that in the flames and the glow of the lasso they appeared almost gold themselves in hue. Shimmering and dancing along with the flickering light. 

“Is  _ that _ why your taking large sums of money to take advantage of people’s insecurities?” Superman accused.

Morning Star’s gaze slowly turned to Clark, something shifting in his gaze. His smile stayed present, yet his eyes that had been so lively not but a second ago suddenly seemed to carry a dark hateful undertone. They all caught the gaze, but with a few blinks he had all but rid the look from his eyes. 

“That  _ does _ look rather shifty, doesn’t it? I’m not entirely sure why they developed a taste for bland foods as a ritual. I’ll be honest, all of this started out as an experiment  with an old colleague of mine. A retired surgeon, Anabelle Taylor. She was dealing with chronic pain due to arthritis and practically begged me to try once I had informed her I was trying to test my abilities. I had always been predisposed to that sort of thing. I’m not sure if its just me or something genetic,yet I never really tried to expand on it or use it until a few years ago.” He explained clenching and unclenching his right hand as he looked down at it. “As for ‘taking advantage of people’s insecurities’... I hadn’t started out really wanting to do that, but I needed to practice, I wasn’t exactly making a livable wage prior, and I found it an amazing opportunity to re-invest the money that was going to be used selfishly into the places that really needed it.”

Bruce and Diana exchanged glances. Clark tilted his head and furrowed his brow before asking: “Where do you consider the “places that really need it?”.”

“It only took me one session to have enough money to sustain myself financially, so I made a hobby out of finding and investing in local causes, I’d like to pay of some student debts, I’d never really learned how to manage that sort of thing, so I’ve been figuring it out as I go. It’s a little difficult though I will admit, here I thought that Wayne fellow wasn’t investing enough in Gotham at all, turns out, no matter how much you donate to causes to better the city there’s no guarantee it will actually go to the right places. I know a guy who runs an initiative to keep my home-city of metropolis clean, so I’ve been doing what I can to help him out too.” He explained, staring at Diana’s lasso in his hand and fixating on the gold glow of it briefly with a slight hum.

“Do you intend to go public with this ability?” Batman asked, narrowing his eyes at him. Supposedly he was thinking himself a robinhood sort, but that didn’t negate the moral questionability of keeping these people young and essentially immortal as long as they kept paying him. Not to mention all the various consequences the League members had come up with.

“Eventually, I should think. How soon has yet to be determined. I can see why you’d be concerned, public access to such an ability to could have a large rippling effect, wouldn’t it?” He said almost thoughtfully. “I’ll admit, my curiosity among other things to see how it all plays out has overwhelmed some of my doubts, if they’re allowed to at all.”

“Why resurrection at all then? Isn’t the healing abilities enough to be making a difference as far as you see it necessary?” Superman asked taking a step forward, his wings raised over his head as they spread out, not an uncommon intimidation tactic for those gifted with extraordinarily large wingspans. Flames flickered off the gold in his feathers much like this man’s eyes, in a split second, the light seemed to be playing out a silent war upon the reflective surfaces.

“I should think you would have figured that out by now, noticed the pattern? I may have failed miserably, yet it should still be obvious.” He replied.

Batman began scanning his brain, trying to see what possible pattern he could have missed. The man Dick saw died to laughing gas, the one that had dissolved into ashes was likely burned alive… the deaths had to be horrific… the souls in metropolis were too formless and vague outside of a possible death by gunshot. No, if there was a pattern, they didn’t have enough information to see it.

Batman gave Clark and Diana a look, suggesting his lack of a good theory, since they had both looked to him for an answer to a possible riddle.

“Enlighten us. There isn’t any pattern to the instances we’ve witnessed.” Superman admitted, crossing his arms and folding his wings behind his back once more.

Morning Star looked up at him almost in surprise, then scanned his eyes across the heros. “You really don’t know? You don’t remember their faces at all?” His smile started to fall into a thin disappointed line, losing its warmth, even the candles seemed to take on a colder hue..

“Remember their faces? What do you mean?” Diana asked, confusion clear in her voice as she found herself stumped by this man’s vague puzzle as well.

Suddenly, the man burst out into a hearty laugh, rolling his head back as his baritone voice bounced off the walls and out into the dark of the abandoned underground.

“Oh, wow… Well, It’s what my work is all about… I can’t belive…” He calmed his laughter down and shook his head. “My intention, is bringing back the souls your league failed to save, as well as the lives lost from the collateral damage from your fist fighting  _ caused _ !” He announced with a wide happy grin, like he was a parent telling them all they were all going to Disneyworld for their birthday.

Except these words landed on all of them like megatons of bricks, their previously bold confident expressions  in the face of what they assumed would be a devious maniac faltering.

“My goal is to simply help clean up your mistakes!” He declared boldy, not caring he was in the presence of possibly the most powerful beings in existence.

Diana’s mouth opened and closed, grip on her lasso beginning to tremble ever so slightly as she quivered between anger and shame.

Bruce stared down at this man, leather of his gloves creaking as he clenched his fists. 

“ _ Why? _ What made you decide that was  _ your  _ job to ‘clean up our mistakes’?” Batman demanded.

It was then Morning Star’s smile finally completely fell away, genuinely, with no intention of trying to will it back, the lasso gripped tightly in his hand.

“It wasn’t, I didn’t  _ want _ it to be. I made that decision the moment Superman deemed that  _ reporter’s  _ life meant more to him than my  _ children’s _ .” His voice that had, up to that point been calm and cheery even when being questioned, was completely gone.  Replaced with a dark bitter tone that oozed years of resentment and grief. “That poor woman is unfortunately known for getting into trouble and  _ always _ having  **_Superman_ ** come to her rescue.”

Rustling echoed throughout the hall as Clark’s wings shook of their own accord.

“And the fact of the matter is, her being in danger  _ ensured _ that he didn’t reach them in time before the building collapsed.” He glared down at the floor and slowly let go of the lasso as Diana staggered away, chest heavy, having no clue how to possibly respond to the information.

He took a long deep breath and closed his eyes, smiling again, this time a smile that was blatantly forced before peaking at the lasso. “That thing works  _ wonders _ doesn’t it?”

Batman’s heart dropped into his stomach, immediately causing him to feel ill. He Wondered how this man could smile again after revealing that. Yet perhaps that was this man’s own mask.

He glanced at Clark who was staring forward, eyes wide, whole body petrified, chest heaving erratically like he was beginning to fight his own lungs to allow him to breathe properly.

“I-I’m sorry… I… that day, I..!” Clark stammered weakly.

Morning Star held up a hand, refusing to meet his eyes. “No… No… It was good in a sense. Because I realized something, the world views you as a god, doesn’t it? But you’re  _ not _ . You may be from another planet, but your still prone to the weaknesses we all fall prey to… aren’t you?” He stood, looking Superman in the eye, who looked about ready to crawl into a dark hole and never come out. 

“It was a wake up call for me, as part of grieving I began to research and make note of every life lost due to you all likely being caught in an insane trolly problem, or simply because someone decided to chuck one of you through a building. I dedicated myself to not letting my abilities go to waste any longer, because maybe if I had cared to explore them I could have saved them from dying too.” He said in a hushed voice. Despite his change in tone and supposedly “fair” way of viewing the situation once more, the animosity in his eyes towards Clark was still present since he had unveiled his intentions - no longer bothering to hide it.

Bruce had never seen Clark look so horrified and distraught, his eyes so close to watering, his knees so close to buckling. He wanted to reach out for him, but he couldn’t… not now… they had to leave, somehow wrap this up. Get the magical League members to handle this. Get Clark away from that sort of resentful hateful gaze. 

“So that’s when I decided - if there was a way to do it, I was going to find it. Either I find a way to bring my children back, and give all those you failed a second chance, or I die trying.” He turned his back to them, kicking aside one of the papers on the floor with his foot. “I can do my work anywhere, I can’t stop you from ‘taking me in’ if you decide its necessary. I will own where I made my mistakes and gotten myself in over my head, if you deem me punishable for that - I will accept that with open arms.” He turned on his heel back to face them. Smiling. Calm. Collected. Stable.

Batman stormed forward without another moment's hesitation, done with letting this man talk, getting up in his face. “Consider this a warning. If you claim to want to ‘clean up after our mistakes’, then you will work  _ with  _ the League and members of it that  _ know what they’re doing _ when it comes to magic, and will not try any more of those “experiments” outside of a controlled environment. You will do what it takes to disband this cult that’s treating you like the second coming of christ - and if we say  _ stop _ you  **_will_ ** . Got it?” He barked, only growing more furious the more the man responded by simply leaning back and taking the full Batman intimidation experience as if he were being yelled at by a child stomping their foot and throwing a temper tantrum. Slightly intimidating, though seemingly more curious and amused than anything.

“I think that’s a pretty good deal, considering.” He responded, taking a step away from Batman and brushed the front of his outfit off, hand grazing over the golden star on his chest despite not a speck of dust dirtying it. “My son always used to run around with a blanket tied around his neck like a cape, declaring he was going to be in the league someday. Perhaps I can atone for my errors and fulfil that for him.”

 

Ouch.

 

~~~

 

The trinity was dead silent as J’onn took the lead in advising Morning Star… or rather  _ Dorian _ as he claimed his name was on the next steps with working with the league and defraying the situation with the elite cult, believing the secrecy and high profile connections with the subject matter is what started the starry eyed behavior in the first place.

Batman wasn’t satisfied at all. This man couldn’t be so ignorant or ‘innocent’ to not recognize the dangers of a cult forming when he saw it… even if he was holding onto the lasso. He seemed to have considered the dangers, but simply threw himself into it, not caring where he landed.

 They all stood, now above ground in the old Cathedral. 

Bruce had asked Tim to see what he could find under the man’s name when he got back to the cave and promptly sent a message to Constantine and Zatanna, giving them a brief summary of what had happened. He told them both he wanted them to work with and keep a close and scrutinous eye on this man, possibly work to convince him the possible ramifications of his intentions could be disastrous. They needed to make sure there wasn’t a single moment that this man was left alone to his own devices. For all they knew, healing couldn’t be his own ability. He had lit all those candles after all. As far as Bruce as concerned, even with the story, this man was dangerous, and there was absolutely no reason to trust him.

“You really think its a good idea to have him working with the League?” Diana asked quietly, tone still slightly dull sounding from the roundabout verbal beat down. “He may have been under the lasso’s influence, but it only compels him to speak  _ his _ truth, I can’t do anything if he’s convinced himself of his own lies.”

Bruce rolled his head back in a quiet attempt to relive the building tension. In a sense it was nice to know that Diana was just as unsettled and suspicious. Particularly since he was always told his levels of paranoia were ridiculous and unfounded. Even if that was true at times, he prefered that over having his trust broken because he was too quick to hand it away.

 “I’d rather have him in a setting where we can keep an eye on him, especially someone like him acting out of  _ vengeance _ in his own way. I may not think what he’s doing is a good idea… but if we can contain this in a controlled environment - we may be either able to convince him to stop or use his abilities for emergencies  _ only _ . He is a metahuman, and his abilities are extraordinary if nothing else. We can’t afford that falling into the wrong hands.”

“He does seem rather young, even with having children. There may still be time to convince him of more constructive methods.” Diana said. She tapped her finger on her arm and bit her lip, apparently trying to convince herself more than the others.

Bruce finally turned to Clark who had been silent the whole way back out, and never stopped looking like he was being eaten alive from the inside out. 

Bruce knew he wasn’t  _ good _ and doing this, but regardless he calmly reached out and touched Clark’s arm. That simple action seemed to be the catalyst to open the flood gates.

“I… I remember that day. It wasn’t that… B I  _ do _ remember those lives lost. It ate at me for ages. I had myself convinced I had time to save everyone. Lois was right there, and didn’t take long to save. She  _ does _ handle herself just fine most of the time. I don’t actually worry about her safety unless its  _ really _ dire. I didn’t even think about it, even though I was slower from coming into contact with Kryptonite earlier I still thought I could save everyone… but I couldn’t.” He explained shakilly. 

“Kal…” Diana began, looking up at him sympathetically.

“He’s right though… I-I make those kinds of choices, I don’t do it consciously, but yeah Lois is my friend - its the same if you two are in danger. You’ve said it yourself B… I don’t think ahead, I just.. And… the fact I didn’t even remember the names or the faces!!”

“Shh.” Bruce hushed, already seeing Clark begin to spiral into a dark place. “Don’t beat yourself up right now. I know what I’ve said. I also know you’ve never purposefully considered Lois’s or anyone’s life to mean more than anyone else's. I know you don’t  _ think _ that way either. It’s natural to instinctively protect those closest to you. Not only that but the lives you  _ save _ vastly outnumber the occasional ones that slip through. It’s difficult to grapple with, but it happens. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“He’s right Kal, we all have made choices like that in the middle of battle. Its natural to instinctively try to save those closest to you. All of us know you’d never purposely let someone die. You’re not a monster. You always make an effort to save everyone within your ability to do so.” Diana stepped a little closer to them both, staring into Clark’s distraught face with soft kindness and sympathy. “There are many people on this planet who witness injustice and simply watch or choose not to even try to stand up. The fact you do… powers or not is what makes you a true hero on this Earth.” She cooed soothingly, reaching out and gripping on breifly to both Clark’s and Bruce’s hands.

Clark shook his head stubbornly. “Maybe… but I’m supposed to be better than that. This man’s life was irrevocably changed because I wasn’t  _ fast _ enough, because I thought I could handle more than I could. He may be being ‘friendly’ or ‘diplomatic’ because he’s been caught by us, but I could  _ see _ in his eyes how much he hates me…” His wings continually drooped more and more, until they finally cascaded, feathers now draped along the dirty stone floor. “... and if you ask me he has every right to. I deserve it.”

Bruce stared at Clark’s feathers with a frown as they picked up the dust and dirt from the ground. It wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with the feelings of  _ vengeance _ , of the feeling of injustice at lives lost… even the horrible life destroying feeling of losing a child... Maybe in past he had lectured Superman about being more careful, or even thought along similar lines himself as he, like many others who didn’t know Superman assumed that he could do no wrong. As well as if he  _ did _ do wrong, it had to be because he  _ chose  _ to. But he knew that wasn’t true now. He knew that Clark was a good man who always did the best he could in the moment. He had so much power he had to think about all the time, Bruce couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to calculate your own capabilities with powers that you yourself didn’t even know the limits of. 

He took a deep breath, racking his brain for anything that he could possibly comfort Clark with, anything he could say to convince this man he was possibly the kindest and most generous man on the planet, that he and Diana at least knew he was a hero in every sense of the word. Clark had done so much for him, remained his friend even when he was acting particularly bitter and caught up in his own universe, he  _ had _ to do something.

Yet, they were interrupted by J’onn and Dorian making their way towards them. 

“We have a few possible solutions involving the cult behavior.” J’onn prefaced. “He claims his powers are somewhat limited in the sense of if he uses too much he wears out and begins experiencing negative effects.”

“I’m capable of not having to have repeated sessions with those people, I can make the changes permanent in the sense that they’ll start aging again naturally from the age they’ve been reversed to instead of repeatedly needing to be kept there and not start re-aging rapidly. Right now… I would say I could do such a thing about… once or twice a week, depending on how old they were to begin with.” Dorian explained, leaning back and forth on his feet. “Either, I could try to take each member on one by one, and finish them off giving them what they wanted - or I could simply… disappear for a while. Which I had considered.” 

Bruce frowned. Some part of him wanted Rick’s smug look in particular to be wiped off and the boasting to end, maybe being back to his true age would finally shut him up and Bruce would never have to see him again. Yet at the same time those people were desperate, lonely, their money supposedly  _ had _ been filtered into good places which he had to check up on rather than it being hoarded like they were all dragons guarding their pile of gold. Not to mention a large group of furious, angry people with extreme amounts of money and power sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. 

“How many ‘members’ do you have to finish up with?” Batman asked.

Morning Star hummed thoughtfully. “27 now, I’ve had other visitors, but the ‘members’ are the ones that  return needing repeated sessions.”

“I think him finishing up with them and then disappearing would be a better course of action. Its a sticky situation, but it could turn ugly with those types being angry or feeling cheated. Especially since they’ve developed strange  _ rituals _ around it from being so starry eyed.” Diana said with a begrudging huff, echoing Bruce’s thoughts.

Bruce nodded with a grunt of agreement. It was then that Zatanna arrived, swiftly and confidently. Constantine soon after arrived with a yawn and a mug of coffee.

“Right, so we found our guy making a spooky mess?” He asked stepping away from the portal that closed behind him, rubbing at his eyes. Just another day in the office for Constantine he supposed.

“That’s me!” Dorian said, bouncing on his heels slightly. 

Before Zatanna could go over to join Constantine on drilling and interrogating Dorian with their own questions based on their knowledge, Bruce stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Update me after you finish with him on what you think.” He said quickly.

She raised her left eyebrow at him. “You’re not staying? Of all people, especially after  _ last time _ …  I assumed you’d want every bit of information gathered yourself.” she questioned, rather perplexed.

“Something came up that Superman and I have to attend to urgently.” He said bluntly.

This caused Diana to look at him in confusion and Clark to mouth “We do?” to him. He met Diana’s eyes, somehow trying to convey to her it was important that he get Clark away for now.

Zatanna herself seemed to not be convinced of Bruce’s excuse, but she’d never seen Batman to be someone who left a scene without a damn good reason. “I’ll make sure to inform you of everything later. You can count on us…” She glanced at Constantine briefly. “ _ Me _ to be thorough.”

Bruce smiled kindly at her gratefully. “I know I can.”

This caused her to suddenly beam at him before turning away to begin her work.

Bruce then walked back to where Clark, Diana, and J’onn were standing, and started pulling Clark away by the shoulder despite the man scanning him in confusion. He looked back at J’onn and Diana  before continuing. “You both alright to handle things for now?”

They both nodded and Diana spoke with soft glance in their direction. “Yes, you both take good care of what you have to attend to. We’ll be sure to call if there’s an emergency.”

“I trust you both.” Bruce said gratefully as he tugged a confused and slightly weary Clark Kent out of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious about reader's reaction to Dorian. If you think he's good or evil - full of shit or full of sparkles. Both are valid takes <3
> 
> Oh, I also will just take a moment to admit, I don't have a massive expansive knowledge of DC canon, I do research as I need to - However if I think the story or the moral will suffer due to feeling like I have to give too much of canon a nod, I'll simply not include it. Hence why even if its canon based, its still an AU. I will understand if a lack of adherence to canon and lore is irritating to some. However, It's the same reason why many of the batfam/superfam/ect. members may not make an appearance. Not because I don't love them, or think they have interesting potential as characters or even stories that could be told in this universe, because they certainly do... but as I'm writing I can only juggle so many characters in one fic. (Though that doesn't mean I'll never include them in future planned fics ;) ) 
> 
> Sometimes for my own sanity certain things have to be cut or put aside for later. I also wouldn't feel right representing characters I don't yet have a large enough background on. Add on top of that I'm particularly awful at editing so a lot of time goes towards that too lol.
> 
> That being said, thank you so much to everyone who has stuck to the story so far, I hope your enjoying it ! There's still a lot more to come... I'm in for the long haul!


	13. Divided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seems like its harder to bend steel than Bruce thought.

As soon as they were out Clark took the opportunity to lean towards him as they walked. “What are we attending to? Did something happen?” He asked in a slightly panicked voice.

“You.” Bruce said bluntly as they walked toward the alleyway they came from.

“Me?” Clark’s confused face turned to a guilty one. “B… I’m not what matters right now… we should…”

“ _ They _ can handle it. This magic stuff is more their expertise anyway. I want them to see what they think first, and if he needs to be interrogated further…find out if he’s trading anything for his abilities... Diana can do that better than I can with him. We’ll get updated later. This has been happening in my city, so of course I want to know but... you matter more than that right now.” He said, slightly frustrated at the baffling idea that Superman was trying to argue his lack of mattering to him. 

He could feel Clark staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“But what if…” He began, starting to protest again.

“I shouldn’t be the one telling you not to be paranoid right now. That isn’t a good role switch for us boy scout.” Bruce interrupted as they stood next to the carefully hidden bat-plane. “Besides, if it turns out he isn’t as passive as he’s acting, I don’t  _ particularly _ want you anywhere near a magic user if he snaps.”

 

Clark looked down at the ground, kicking a pebble with his feet.

“I don’t know B, it didn’t  _ seem _ like he was lying, just… someone who’s acting out of grief. It’s my fault he doesn’t have a family anymore.” He hissed through his teeth, bitterly scolding himself.

“He may himself convinced he’s acting out of pure intentions. Maybe in some way he  _ is _ . But intentions only mean so much, and sometimes we don’t even know our own minds or the damage we cause. He was also acting completely differently than he was last night. He’s still shown to be manipulative even if he thinks its for a good reason. He may have acted ‘innocent’, but he could be only acting passive because he got caught, and maybe he wants to get on our good side to figure out how we found him. Or to surprise us with having more power than he’s letting on, I’m counting on Zee and Constantine to figure out how he’s doing what he’s doing in the first place. Then we can make a better judgment of his “intentions”.”  Batman stopped his train of thought, realizing he had started rambling off again. 

“Yeah… maybe… I guess, doing something like that can’t come without a price. Er… to my knowledge. I don’t know much about magic except I don’t like it.” Clark mumbled, unconvinced.

He wanted to change the subject, get Clark far away from that man. If Dorian did have ulterior motives… besides the idea of Clark being so deeply distraught being worrying already, the fact that this man had opened an emotional wound he could potentially twist if he wanted too was more unsettling.

Bruce then sighed and gathered his thoughts, ready to put his quickly made plan of “Opportation: Comfort Clark” into action.

“What do you need Clark?” Bruce asked, wings drooping slightly under the weight of his armor.

Clark tucked his wings behind his back, almost clenching them together so much so that they appeared far smaller than they truly were. He often held them like that just to do his job at the Daily Planet. It had never looked very comfortable to Bruce.

“I… I don’t know…” He admitted, looking towards the ground, jaw starting to lock.

“Hmmm…” Batman grunted as he made a note of Clark’s body language. He was starting to stress out, and didn’t seem to know where to put it.

“Let’s just go up to the watchtower. We’ll be easily accessible there if need be but we can get you away from…  _ him _ .” Bruce suggested.

Clark’s jaw finally clenched shut, he looked up to the sky then puffed a gust of air out of his nose, accompanying it with a long sigh as he finally relented. “Fine… fine…”

“ _ Thank you _ .” Bruce heaved, climbing into the Batplane, just relieved to not have to stand there and keep arguing.

Clark was deathly silent as they entered the watchtower, and Bruce was starting to have a little imp biting at his insides telling him he had pissed the man off.

“Superman… I…” He began, hesitating as he saw Clark’s wings droop slightly.

“Maybe we should go into one of the empty meeting rooms.” He suddenly interrupted. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it certainly was urgent.

“...Alright.” Bruce agreed hesitantly, not sure why he was suddenly feeling so on edge. Usually, he was the one calling people into meeting rooms with an urgent tone.

As soon as they entered the room, away from passing ears, Clark sighed and leaned on the table.

“You know I could have handled it.”

Bruce felt like slamming his head into a wall. Clark was possibly the only man to rival his level of stubbornness. He pinched the bridge of his nose, holding back a groan.

“This isn’t about whether you’re capable or not Clark. I _thought_ you already understood that.” He sank down into a chair, begging every god he knew of that Clark would just trust him and  _ drop it _ .

“Isn’t it?!” Clark snapped, nearly making Bruce jump before realizing how sharp his tone had gotten and taking a deep breath to calm down himself down. “Come on Bruce, I’m tired, what’s the lesson here?” He asked, head and wings seemingly barely being held up.

Batman stared back at the man of steel, mouth opening slightly as he struggled to catch up with what he was being accused of.

“What are you talking about?" He finally countered.

“Come  _ on _ Batman, you never pull this kind of thing unless you're trying to create some sort of ‘teachable moment’. I  _ just _ want to get it over with so I can get back to doing what I have to.” He began pacing around the room, eyes not leaving contact with Bruce’s that stared back, wide-eyed under the cowl. “So just tell me what it is. Is it that I shouldn’t let my emotions affect me on the job? Is that it? Because like I said, I was  _ fine _ . I thought  _ we _ were doing fine!” He insisted.

Finally, after Clark had said his piece, Bruce stood up finally deciding he had enough of being accused of nonsense. “For fucks sake Clark, I  _ know _ you could have pushed passed it. But that doesn’t mean you should have to. I was doing you a favor! I’m not trying to lecture you! We  _ are _ fine! You're making a big deal out of nothing!”

“A  _ favor _ ?! We left Diana…”

“And Zatanna and Constantine because they are perfectly capable of handling it without either of us  _ hovering _ !” Bruce snapped. “But  _ excuse me _ for trying to think of your feelings and get you out of there.” He hissed, not caring anymore how harsh or not he sounded.

“My  _ feelings?! _ My feelings don’t matter!” Clark was now all out shouting at him, Wings arched behind him and flared out threateningly.

Bruce could feel his face growing hot. “Yes they do! And you can’t just let them go unaddressed!”

“You’re one to talk!” Clark snapped. “At least I don’t shut out people out who care about me!”

“Do  _ not _ turn this back on me Kent! I’m not what matters here, this is about  _ you _ not about  _ me _ !” He shouted, eyes growing strained and hot with every word.

“Why should you get to say that?!” 

Bruce shoved the chair he had been sitting in previously to the side with an angry growl of exasperation. “Because  _ I  _ don’t matter! I don’t  _ want _ this to be about me!  **_You_ ** shouldn’t feel that way, you’re too important!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!” Bruce shouted back in the other man’s face.

“Why? Because I’m Superman? The alien  _ freak _ from another planet that’s only ever cared about as long as he’s perfect and solves everyone’s problems?” Bruce could see Clark’s face start to break from it’s previously aggressive glare, lip quivering slightly as his voice cracked.

Batman took a step back. “That’s not…”

“Nothing I ever do is good enough. Not for you, not for  _ anyone _ .” He shouted.

“Clark… I… that’s not how I feel.” He replied quietly.

“I don’t…” Clark shrunk down into one of the chairs. “I don’t believe that.” 

Bruce stared at him. Had he been so awful, such a terrible friend and colleague that Clark was so easily able to lump him into that? When had he made Clark think that was the way he felt about him?

He stared down at the ground. Dick and Tim and… Jason… starting to cross his mind. His wings shivered, betraying him as the mere thought of his dead adopted son crossed his mind. All of them… hadn’t they acted in a similar way around him?

He knew he became cold when focused on his goals, he knew it was wrong to do to his boys when all they had wanted was his love and approval, not aware they already had it… because he never showed it.

He had made his kids feel like that on more than one occasion.

“And I’m doing it again…” He whispered out loud without realizing it.

Clark’s head shot up in confusion. “...what?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, nothing but regrets filling his mind as he began to mentally spiral into a dark place. How he should have never adopted any of his boys to begin with, then they wouldn’t have suffered because of him. 

As for Clark… well… look at what happened to his last best friend. All because he had lied, because he locked himself so far away he couldn’t see that something was wrong. 

He slowly looked back at Clark. “Is that… is that really how you feel? That I think you’re not good enough? That I don’t care? That the only reason I would have pulled you away from something like that is to lecture you?”

Clark shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I…S-Sometimes….”

For the first time in years, Bruce’s face betrayed him and faltered from its usual stoic poker face. He knew Clark saw it by the way his eyes widened and he stood back up suddenly. 

“Bruce I..!”

Bruce’s wings fell to the floor, not being able to keep up the strength to hold them up.

“Right… Do what you need to do… if you want to go back.” He practically shoved the words out of his mouth as he turned away, stalking towards the door.

"I guess I’m the one that needs to be away from it.” He paused at the door, feeling the inside of his cowl growing uncomfortably wet. “I’m… sorry for dragging you into it.”

With that, he left the man of steel standing in the middle of the room alone, and rushed to leave for home, wondering how it could go so wrong. He was feeling rather strongly inclined to lock himself in his room where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

~~~

It wasn’t often that Alfred witnessed Bruce stip off the suit and cowl in a hurry and rush upstairs to his room with his choice of alcohol in hand. Immediately as he disappeared upstairs without saying a word to Tim or his guardian. Alfred set down his duster with a worried sigh.

“Is he okay?” Tim asked, folding his small wings behind his back and furrowing his brows.

“I don’t believe so, unfortunately.” He explained to the boy absentmindedly before shaking his head and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ll see to him, just try to worry about your own matters for now Master Drake… I assure you he will recover.”

Tim shuffled his feet and nodded. “Okay… I hope I can still show him my project later…” He was obviously looking somewhat disappointed while still being understanding.

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see it.” He gave Tim a final encouraging glance before darting upstairs to see to his son.

Alfred knocked on Bruce’s bedroom door, he was a gentleman after all, but he was also this man’s guardian so he marched in anyway without waiting for a response. 

 He beelined across the room, lifting Bruce’s shot glass out of his hand before the man could react and stole the bottle off the bedside table. 

“Absolutely not.” He declared before setting both items outside the room for him to take down to the pantry after he was done.

“Alfred…” Bruce protested tiredly.

Alfred allowed Ace to trot in before closing the door. The pup put his paw up on Bruce’s leg diligently with a slight whimper.

“I’m not going to allow you to indulge in destructive behaviour to drown whatever it is your going through. I think I’ve enabled such things quite enough.” Alfred declared stubbornly, straightening his vest.

His eyes softened as soon as Bruce slumped his head in defeat, pulling up his knees into his chest and hugging his legs close to him, slumping his wings down across the expanse of his bed. Ace hopped up on the bed beside his master as a quiet gentle comfort. 

“Is there any possible chance you’d be willing to talk about it? I’m always here to listen if you wish…” Alfred asked softly.

Bruce was silent for a moment before wiping his eyes with the palm of his hands, his eyes were currently barely even watery, but he seemed determined to make them as dry as possible.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me Alfred.” He muttered.

Alfred crossed over to sit beside the man, placing a hand on his back soothingly.

“No… that’s not true…” He continued mournfully. “I do know what’s wrong. I’m an awful father and an awful friend. That’s what’s wrong with me.” He buried his head in his knees.

“Bruce…” Alfred began.

“I was trying so hard… Alfred…” He began, squeezing his eyes shut, angrily trying to force himself not to start sobbing. “I wanted to be better. I wanted things to be different… and it just blew up in my face because I had already ruined it.” 

“I’m assuming you and Mister Kent had a spat? You seemed so thrilled to see him this morning.”

Bruce’s chest heaved. “That’s just it… I was… and it went  _ well _ . It was… nice…”

Bruce slowly began to recount the events to Alfred as best as he could, sorting everything out as he did. He told him everything about Dorian, what he had said to Clark, all leading to him leaving with him and the fight he at Clark had in the watchtower.

“I… I never wanted him to feel like that, I’ve never wanted to make  _ anyone _ feel that. I get myself into these situations, I let myself care about someone… that’s my first mistake, and I inevitably ruin it or hurt them. I…” Finally Bruce began to let his eyes water. “Sometimes I think… I’m cursed, as insane as that sounds. Like I’m… I’m some sort of walking bad omen that only exists to spread death and misery.”

Alfred took in a shaky breath, holding back his own emotional anguish that threatened to break him and put his arm around his boy.

“Let’s tackle one thing at a time… When you allow everything to pile on at once it becomes far more intimidating than it needs to be.” He said softly. “ As for today regarding Mister Kent… From what it sounds like, I don’t think he was really angry at  _ you _ not really. Simply, it seems as if you inadvertently triggered a switch that let one of his own demons out. Can you be rather harsh and distant at times? Certainly. I won’t sit here and try to convince you that you are without vice or flaws, none of us are. But I  _ know _ you were trying. And  _ that _ is what’s important.”

Bruce slowly looked up into Alfred’s eyes. 

“And I’m almost certain you and him are a lot more similar than you think. From what you’ve told me, I believe he’s also guilty of bottling things up until he pushes loved ones away or lets stress get the best of him.”

Bruce stared forward, considering Alfred’s words. “I know he was affected by what Dorian said. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He’s simultaneously treated as an outcast while being held to an impossible standard to rid the whole world of every ounce of misery, or else he’s considered in danger of being a threat. He sat there as someone blamed him for his personal loss and  _ believed _ them.” He took a deep breath. “I… can’t imagine how lonely and frustrating that would be. To have every single person’s expectations on you all at once.” He said thoughtfully. “That’s… that’s the second time he’s had an outburst where he’s used the word ‘alien’ in a negative light.”

Alfred nodded. “It  _ was _ unfair for him to become cross with you, however I think for your sanity and understanding its worth knowing that it wasn’t all because of something you did, I believe deep down he sees you trying as well, and likely didn’t realize he would hurt you.”

“I just didn’t want him to be trying to think of me as more important than him…” He mumbled. It was then that something clicked in his head.

“And I… told him he was more important than me.” He muttered, unfurling. “I told him that I didn’t matter, and  _ he  _ was the one who was important.” He blinked a few times, realization somewhat unloading the weight on his chest. “He doesn’t want to be more or less important than anyone else, I made him feel like he was somehow separate from the rest of us… I wanted to tell him he mattered the most right at that moment to  _ me _ , not that he was more important than anyone else.”

He stared forward in silence, brain ticking away before letting out a long sigh. “I’m really not great at this whole ‘relationship’ thing.”

Alfred took a deep breath before speaking again. “I think… in all your relationships, you’ve had one foot in the door and one foot out. You know you desire to be close to others, to have… a  _ family _ of sorts again. Yet that’s also been terrifying for you, since doing so allows you to become open to being hurt again.” He gave Bruce another squeeze of a hug as he talked. “It’s not as if those around you don’t  _ know _ , and I don’t think they blame you. What’s important for  _ you _ to decide is what you want, and to commit to it.” He parted from Bruce, looking at him fondly and seriously. Bruce’s wings perked up as he met Alfred’s gaze, studying the older man’s face.

“Do you absolutely… truly want to bar yourself away from humanity? Or do you want to let yourself fall and be open to forming a deeper bond with those you care about?” He smiled affectionately. “Batman… will exist either way. Love and Batman need not be mutually exclusive.”

Bruce’s lips quirked upwards slightly as he turned his gaze down towards his feet. He looked briefly at Ace, petting the pup’s head before looking up, resolute in his decision.

“I want things to be different. I don’t want to keep repeating this cycle… and I know now its on me to commit to being better. Even… even if it hurts sometimes.” He got up off the bed and reached for his phone in determination. “And I’m going to start by getting in contact with my son and talk to him like I’ve kept promising myself I would.” He looked out towards the window at the night sky, scanning it as if deep down hoping he’d see someone else there. “And if Clark wants to talk about it… I’ll listen.”

Alfred looked surprised but beamed with relief and pride, standing up himself. “That sounds like a wonderful idea Master Bruce.”

With a resolute smile on his face, Bruce scrolled through his contacts while making his way to the door of his room before stopping. A thought entered his mind as he glanced back at Alfred. His butler? No… Alfred had been far more than that his whole life. He thought about it, a particular word that had always danced across his mind in certain moments when he was around the man seemed to be jumping out at him now in particular. He hugged his wings around himself in anticipation, deciding he was finally going to let the words leave his mouth and experiment with how it would sound in his voice.

“Dad…” He said slowly, the word so unfamiliar on his tongue, yet feeling so deeply appropriate, he was only encouraged by the look of pure astonishment as Alfred looked back at him with a wide, completely baffled gaze. Bruce smiled so wide and so softly it neared on a true pure grin. “Thank you…”

As Bruce left the room, Alfred stared at the spot his  _ son _ had just been into as he brought a hand to his mouth. This time it was his turn to be trying to force himself not to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? 13 is an unlucky number.  
> Also yay!! I'm finally writing again! Honestly, I just had to get around to plotting out some of the bits past this point because I had honestly not trusted myself to get this far before this point.  
> Honestly, I've wanted to see Bruce embrace Alfred as a second father for so long, so that bit may have been a little indulgent of me, but it felt right.


	14. United

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its time for some changes to be made.

Bruce tended to only call Dick in past at odd times when he needed Nightwing for help. With a newly invigorated zest for trying to be a better adoptive parent, Bruce had called his eldest son only to quickly realize he had no goddamn idea what to say, especially now that Dick had actually picked up.

“Hey, hang on let me get out of here…” He said, from what Bruce could tell Dick was probably out somewhere, he heard him close a door and distant crowded voices faded into the background. “What’s up?”

“Uh… nothing much… well, that’s a lie, lots of things are up but that’s not what I called about.” Bruce rambled off awkwardly.

He could almost hear Dick cock his head in confusion. “...Okay… so this… isn’t for a…  _ job? _ ” He asked curiously.

“No.” Bruce shuffled his feet. “Actually I… I mean… I wanted to ask you how you were doing?”

That was a normal question to ask, right?

“How I’m doing?” Dick repeated as if he had to say it himself to believe it.

“Yes.” Bruce replied plainly, staring at the wall.

This was uncomfortable for him, but he never let discomfort stop him with anything else, so why should it stop him here?

“Uh… huh.. Well um…” Dick stammered, obviously struggling himself to think of what to talk about. “I’m alright. Actually there’s this really nice gal that just moved in next door. I’m thinking about asking her out. She’s hanging out at this party I’ve been at tonight.” He began sheepishly.

“Really? Is she a redhead?” Bruce asked smirk forming on his mouth.

“I… hey! How did you know?”

Bruce held back a chuckle. “Just a hunch. What about Barbara? I thought you were finally going to go out with her?”

He heard Dick shuffle his feet, and briefly wondered if Dick had always done that or he had gotten that habit from him. “I uh… I chickened out at the last minute.”

“She would have said yes.” Bruce insisted.

“I mean maybe but… I don’t know I guess I got scared I would screw it up. She… She means a lot to me. It’s not like just trying to go out with just anybody to see if it could be something else, it’s  _ more _ than that. At least to me.” Dick rambled.

“I know how that feels. I’ve been told it can be worth the risk though.” He replied, hoping even the smallest words of encouragement would help. “Though, not to freak you out, but if you break your neighbors heart… well… she  _ does _ live right next to you.”

He could hear Dick grimace. “Ah… yeah I guess… I guess that would be worse than it not working out with Barbara in some ways.”

“You’re a good person Dick, and I know Barbara cares about you, you should just give it a try.” Bruce encouraged.

“Yeah… you’re right.” Dick paused for a moment before speaking again. “But really though, how  _ did _ you know my neighbor would be a redhead? You haven’t been spying on me have you?” He asked in a somewhat warning tone.

Bruce finally chuckled. “No, you just have a type Dick.”

“Wh- Hey! I don’t  _ only _ date redheads!” He protested.

“Name five people you went out with that didn’t have red in their hair.” Bruce pointed out.

“There was that girl in highsc-”

“She was a strawberry blonde.” Bruce interrupted gleefully.

Dick paused, mouth obviously agape before groaning and slapping his hand over his face. “Ohhh  _ nooooo.  _ You’re  _ right _ ! Why are you  **_right?_ ** ” he protested 

Bruce laughed at Dick’s realization.

“Dammit! Well, it’s not like you don’t have a blatantly obvious type too.” Dick countered, now sporting his own grin.

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“You like people that could kick your ass if they wanted to.” Dick answered rather peppily. 

“Language. And I do not.” He replied pacing down the hall. 

“Oh ho, yes you do. Don’t even try to deny it. Or does the world’s greatest detective have a blind spot?”

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, thinking on it. There was Selina… even Andrea had managed to flip him over onto his back that one time, and Harvey… well back in High School Bruce hit his growth spurt a little late and Harvey had practically towered over him back then.

“Oh no.” He finally replied sheepishly.

Dick laughed heartily, feeling like he had properly teased Bruce for the redhead comment, Bruce sooned joined in with his own chuckle. After a moment of shared laughter, Dick was the first to speak up.

“Hey… you really just called to ask how I was doing?” 

“Yes. No ulterior motives, I swear.” He replied truthfully leaning against the large wooden wall in one of the many lonely hallways in the manor, gazing once again out one of the massive windows, noticing clouds beginning to march their way over the night sky, a flash of lighting rippling through them in the distance. He’d have to check to see how intense of a storm it would be. Just from looking at it he knew the rainfall alone may flood at the bottom of the hill the manor stood on.

“I uh, appreciate it. Really.” Dick’s voice came from the phone pulling Bruce back to the conversation at hand.

“I want to try to do it more. I.. felt awful for not checking in on you after…” He began.

“Oh.. yeah… I…” Dick began pacing gritting his teeth slightly. “It wasn’t exactly nice to see, and yeah it messed me up for a few days, but I think I’ve seen more gruesome things at this point.”

“Still I…” He began, before taking a breath and thinking about his words carefully. “I know you would be able to work through it without intervening but I got so wrapped up in my own universe  _ again _ and didn’t stop to consider you. I’ve done that more times than I’m proud of and… I’m sorry.”

Dick was silent for a moment, leaving Bruce staring forward, heart beginning to pound and chest starting to feel tight in anticipation the thought of “ _ too little too late _ .” crossing his mind.

“Oh… geeze… um… “ Dick replied struggling to find his words. “Gosh, sorry I’m just uh… I didn’t quite expect something like that from you.”

“I know you didn’t. I don’t…” He rubbed his eyes, a snapping angry voice in his head was trying to get him to fall back into old patterns, to shut up, stay stoic, shut the world out. He shook his head, forcing himself to continue even if it sounded awkward and unfamiliar on his tongue. 

“I don’t want to be that person. You have no reason to care, or frankly even speak to me any longer. If you wanted that, I wouldn’t blame you. I dragged you into my mess, and just assumed you wanted all the same things I did. I was wrong, and I should have listened to you more.”

“Bruce woah, slow down you don’t have to…”

“I know I can’t make up for the years I wasn’t there for you in the way you needed me to be, but I want to try now, If you’ll let me.”

He closed his eyes as Dick let out a deep long breath he must have been holding in.

“Holy shit Bruce, you’re going to make me look all red eyed in public.” He replied, still trying to bring some sort of humor to the situation despite his voice breaking.

“I know its a lot, but I’ve been keeping it all in. Right up to back in the beginning regretting I couldn’t do simple things like help you learn to fly.”

“Well that’s definitely not your fault.” Dick said with a slight huff of a chuckle.

“ _ Still _ , it’s what you deserved.” He muttered.

“What even happened Bruce, have you been thinking about this for a while or..?” He asked.

Bruce began fiddling with his feathers anxiously, this was the first time he had really exposed any of what he had been thinking to any of his adopted children.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” He grimaced realized he had pulled out one of his own feathers without realizing it. “I guess its all just finally hit me in the face what a ‘Etruscan Snood’ I’ve been.”

Dick laughed heartily, breaking the melancholy mumbling both of them had started doing. “You remembered that?”

“I remember most all of them. I have a journal where I wrote all of them down actually.” He said, smile drifting back onto his face.

“No way! Really?” Dick asked excitedly.

“Mmm hmm.” Bruce nodded despite Dick not being able to see him do so. “My personal favorite was always “Holy Tintinnabulation”. I hadn’t even known what that word meant until you said it.”

“I actually used to memorize words in the dictionary so I could whip one of those out fast.” He explained. “I remember it used to make you smile. I’m… still kind of excited you saved all that.”

“I’ll show you if you happen to come to visit.” Bruce suggested hopefully.

“Yeah…yeah I think I’d like that a lot. I’ll let you know when I can do it, okay?”

“Okay, you’re… welcome any time. I hope you know that.” Bruce said, the massive crushing stress that had been pounding at his chest telling him that his connection with his eldest was completely obliterated with no chance of mending leaving him washed over with relief.

“Thanks, Bruce, really. I didn’t expect any of that tonight, but I’m glad you felt ready to say it.”

“I’m happy that your still open to hearing it.” He admitted, opening his eyes as thunder rumbled overhead.

“Always... Hey, I have to jump out but I really did appreciate it, okay  _ Padre _ ?”

Bruce beamed in the dark hallway. “Of course  _ mijo _ , take care.” 

He held his phone to his chest immediately as they both hung up. Despite the awkwardness, despite how difficult it was to just  _ tell _ him what he was thinking, despite the plucked feather on the floor… it was  _ so _ worth it.

~~~

Bruce made his way down to the kitchen, humming a disjointed absent minded rendition of ‘singing in the rain’ as the storm began to roar outside. He paused outside Tim’s door, seeing the obvious computer light spilling out of the room. He clicked his tongue thoughtfully before committing to lightly knocking on the door. He seemed to be on a roll tonight despite his spat with Clark still biting at part of his mind, so why not?

“Yeah? Come in!” Tim called back at the door.

Bruce strode in and turned on one of the room lights on with a smile. “You’re going destroy your eyes doing that Tim.” He sat down on the bed across from the boy in his desk chair, smiling calmly to let him know he was lightly teasing, not lecturing. “I should know, its why I have to wear reading glasses these days.”

Tim smiled back slightly and pulled away from his computer. “I kind of just forgot to turn it on when it got dark.” He replied, he paused seeing Bruce eyeing the mug filled with an energy drink that was dangerously close to his keyboard. “And uh… guess I keep forgetting not to have sugary drinks near electronics, huh?” He asked sheepishly.

Bruce chuckled. “The only reason I’m so paranoid about it is because when I had  _ just _ set up the bat-computer, I decided it’d be a great idea to put a massive mug of coffee right above the control panel…”

Tim grinned, knowing where this story was going and leaned forward.

“You know how I tend to jump up quickly when I figure something out and need to head out, well… I did it, whipped around, and my wing knocked the mug over and spilled that coffee all over the damn thing.”

Tim laughed bringing up his knees to his chest to hug them. “I bet you were  _ furious _ .”

“I was so mad I nearly quit being Batman, all because I spilled some  _ coffee _ .” He joined in Tim’s laughing at the story.

“Batman, defeated by his one true weakness:  _ Caffeine  _ on a  _ keyboard. _ ” Tim declared in a mock-announcer voice.

“It’s too tragic for me to handle.” Bruce joked with a slight wink.

It was kind of nice being able to do something that made Tim genuinely laugh. He had been a little worried he was responsible for starting Tim’s caffeine addiction, but he was one to talk even if he didn’t usually fall back on energy drinks.

“Oh! Hey!” Tim announced suddenly jumping up and rushing to his backpack, suddenly remembering something. “It’s a little silly but I’m supposed to do this project for art class, and Alfred said when you were my age you had a ‘artistic eye’ as he put it or whatever so… maybe you could tell me what you think?” Tim bounced on his heels, hugging a sketchbook to his chest he had pulled out of his school bag.

Bruce’s eyes lit up slightly. “Well, I haven’t drawn seriously in ages, but I’d be happy to take a look.” He said, tilting his head curiously to see the boy’s work.

Tim rushed over, sitting next to Bruce on the bed and opened the sketchbook. “See, it’s part of the whole ‘life drawing’ thing, we’re supposed to go around and just find a bunch of stuff to try and draw as best we can, some buildings, places, animals, people… that kind of stuff and submit the sketchbook at the end of the year.”

Immediately Bruce blinked in surprise at the first few pages, containing drawings of several buildings he recognized around gotham very easily and clearly, including one doodle of Wayne Tower. Tim then turned the page to a fully detailed drawing that Bruce recalled perching on many times. It was one of the oldest in Gotham, and probably the most  _ gothic _ of them.

“I kind of cheated on this one because I just drew it from memory.” Tim explained guiltily.

His explanation only made Bruce’s jaw fall open. “ _ From memory? _ Tim, this is incredible!” He exclaimed leaning in to examine all the small technical details he had managed to recreate almost perfectly.

Tim turned a little red. “Aww come on, your just saying that.”

“I’m  _ serious _ . This looks exactly like it.. The fact that you…” He looked at Tim curiously. “Do you have a photographic memory?”

Tim cocked his head to the side. “I mean, kind of I guess, I don’t remember everything though, it’s kind of fragmented at times. But I guess for this building I’ve been around it so often now…” He shrugged.

“That’s a really amazing skill!” Bruce said enthusiastically. “I mean it, the fact that you have that kind of attention to detail is incredible.” His eyes wide with amazement and excitement clear in his voice.

“Really?” Tim asked voice perking up with pride.

“ _ Really _ . I’m not able to think like this, I usually have to gather as much as I can and write down my thoughts later or focus on one detail at a time to remember it. This… I’m a little blown away.” He admitted.

Tim beamed so bright he was sure for a moment he could rival Clark with a grin that sunny.

“Wow! If you really think so.” He tilted his head thoughtfully for a moment before turning a few more pages. “Though… I feel like every time I draw people I can’t quite get it right.” 

He pointed to a drawing he had tried doing of what seemed to be a man sitting at a table. Compared to his incredibly intricate technical drawing of the buildings, it did seem a little rough.

“It’s like… even if I can see all the details on  _ people _ and try to draw them, it just doesn’t  _ look  _ right, and I don’t know why, it just doesn’t line up and look the way it should. ” He admitted with a frown.

Bruce hummed thoughtfully and stole a sheet of printer paper and a pencil from Tim’s desk. “I’m not sure if I know how to do it anymore, but it always helped me to try and see people as a bunch of simple shapes stuck together. Your really good at technical drawing, so maybe starting like this would be better.”

He drew a circle for the head and grimaced. “Okay, this is a bad circle but imagine it’s a  _ good _ circle for a moment.” 

Tim chuckled but focused his eyes on the page as Bruce tried to draw the same figure as a bunch of general shapes.

 “I think even if you know to start with basic shapes with your building drawings, It’s easy to get stuck on details with people. So after you have the basic shapes down then from what I remember its better to be looser as counter-intuitive as that seems. People are expressive, so your lines should be too.”

“Ohhh right.” Tim nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah that makes sense, I guess I was a little too stiff with things that were supposed to be alive.”

“Not that I’m doing it well right now…” Bruce teased himself. He looked at his very very rough looking attempt at drawing. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he had really drawn anything, the muscle memory was pretty much gone. He stared at it for a moment before drawing a mustache on it out of half-hearted frustration.

Tim looked at the drawing gleefully before stealing the pencil. “Wait, Wait…” He doodled a familiar receding hairline and two straight lines for some eyebrows, with two dots for pupils that looked completely done with their shit. 

“It’s Alfred!” The both managed to declare together before erupting into laughter.

Bruce realized in the middle of it that despite the wretched afternoon - he had laughed more today than he had in years, and that alone just made him generally more gleeful. 

“Seriously though, thanks for the help! I was really kind of stumped there.” Tim admitted, shutting the sketchbook for the time being and putting it off to the side.

“Thank you for showing me. Those buildings really do look incredible. I’m still amazed you were able to recall that much from memory.” He praised, feeling excited at seeing how much Tim’s face has lit up, and wondered how he could have been missing out on this since Tim joined the family.

Suddenly they both flinched at a particularly loud crash of thunder and a bolt of lightning that obviously hit close by and looked at the lamp as it immediatly flickered out, leaving them both in the dark. 

“Yikes.” Tim said with a grimace.

Bruce nodded “Yikes is right.”

Tim stood and found his phone for light. Bruce stood and hummed to himself. “I’m going to find Alfred, see if we can get the generator running.”

“Okay, can I do anything?” Tim asked, turning his phone’s flashlight on.

“Hmm…” Bruce thought to himself before smiling. “Head down to the kitchen, Alfred hides the cookie dough under the vegetables in the right hand drawer. Help yourself.”

Tim looked near exploding with excitement and gave him a fake salute in response. “You got it boss!” He chirped before sprinting off.

~~~

Knowing Alfred, the man was likely already heading towards the basement to turn on the generator already, so he headed that direction himself, figuring they would eventually bump into each other. He sped walked down the hall, down a flight of stairs, down another hall, and briefly wondered why this place had to be so  _ big _ , did his parents really need this much space? 

Rain poured down on the roof of the manor, further encouraged in its ferocity by the rushing wind.

Suddenly his heart stopped as something  _ big _ slammed against the window down the hall. Causing it to buckle slightly, but not yet break. He reached for his pocket knife that had come in handy more than once and pressed himself against the wall, away from the window, slowly moving forward cautiously towards the window. He clenched his jaw as he saw something massive and vaguely human shaped pressed up against it, completely unidentifiable in the darkness.

Suddenly, faintly, he heard the figure call to him.

“ _ Bruce! _ ” the voice called to him.

“ _ The fuck?” _ Bruce thought, he knew that voice.

The lightning flashed, revealing a very wet and somewhat pathetic looking Superman plastered against the glass, confirming who Bruce had suspected it was from the voice. He rushed to the window and threw it open.

“What do you think you’re doing?! You nearly gave me a heart attaahh-CK”

He didn’t have any time to protest as the giant wet man slammed against him. Wrapping him in an incredibly wet hug, closing the window to prevent any more rain from coming in behind him. Not that it did much good since both Bruce and the floor were drenched.

“ _ Clark _ !” Bruce protested, mind racing at a million miles per minute trying to catch up with what was happening.

“I’m s-so sorry!” He suddenly bleated out.

“Clark please..!”

“I-I was acting like a complete  _ ass _ . I didn’t mean t- I didn’t mean to! Just don’t… please don’t ignore me!” 

Bruce shivered, the rain water and Clark himself feeling very cold on his skin before he was finally able to comprehend what he was saying.

“It hasn’t even been a day Clark, how have I been  _ ignoring you _ ?” He demanded more than questioned.

“After you left, I-I knew I messed up immediately and I tried calling and texting you and…”

“...you did?” Bruce questioned in confusion, patting his back pocket for his phone and opening it up.

Sure enough there were two missed calls and three unseen texts from Clark, asking to talk and saying he was sorry.

“I...I mean granted I didn’t want to blow up your phone but…” Clark stammered, his wings sagging with the weight of all the water that was now collecting on the ground.

“I had my ringer off, and I was distracted. I didn’t… see that you were trying to get in contact.” He explained re-pocketing his phone.

Clark turned a shade of red and tensed his shoulders. “Oh… I guess… I’m still acting kind of ridiculous.”

Bruce sighed. “Well you're here, and your wet, and now I’m wet so your going into one of the guest bedrooms to shower and dry off then we can talk.” Bruce said as he lightly kicked at the pool of water on the ground. 

Immediately it looked like Clark was ready to panic again. It was watching him that made Bruce really think this man had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown all day. “I’m sorry for the mess! I didn’t mean- I was just…” he started to defend. “I can..”

Bruce held up a hand. “Clark, please, take a hot shower. I’m sorry it has to be in the dark, the power is out. But you need to get cleaned and dried off, and for god’s sake  _ please  _ take a few deep breaths.” He implored.

Clark swallowed nervously before finally taking a shaky breath and nodding. “Okay. Where do I..?”

Bruce gestured down the hall. “Three doors down on the left side. All the rooms should have towels and that stuff in them already. I’ll try to find something for you to wear once your out and I’ve showered off too.” He said with a grunt, brushing at his sweater in the futile attempt to rid it of water.

Clark nodded guiltily and sped off down the hall. Bruce sighed and jogged down the hall and back up the stairs he had just come down on.

After a power wash and a fresh pair of clothes, he rummaged through his dresser, trying to see if he had anything big enough to fit Clark. He sometimes kept oversized T-shirts for when it was too cold to sleep nude in the winter, so that might work, it was finding pants that was the problem.

He looked up thankfully as the lights flickered back on, figuring Alfred must have gotten the generator going and switched his phone flashlight off. He then texted Tim knowing the boy likely still had his phone on him.

“ _ Clark came in through the window in the west hall, we have to talk for a little bit. But let Alfred know for me if you see him and so he’s not  _ **_too_ ** _ startled by the large puddle of water he left when he came in.” _

Tim texted back almost immediately. “ _ Oh damn. Yeah I’ll let him know. Tell big blue I said hi if I don’t see him! _ ”

Satisfied, Bruce went back to his search for any sort of pants that would even slightly fit Clark. He stumbled across a pair of red pajama bottoms that seemed big for him that he didn’t even remember ever wearing, but shrugged and decided they were good enough, and sprinted back downstairs into the room he had sent Clark into. 

“I think I found something for you to…” He paused, brain blanking for a moment realizing he had walked in on a half naked Clark with only a towel covering him without thinking before blinking a few times to force himself to stop thinking about it. “...to wear.  _ Hopefully _ it fits.”

“Er… thanks B.” Clark stammered before Bruce stepped back out of the room to leave the man to change.

Much to Bruce’s chagrin he found himself thinking about those pecs that he assumed Clark’s supersuit just enhanced, but no, they were really that perfect. He bit his lip with his canine slightly just thinking about it, fidgeting with his fingertips slightly.

He was forced out of his thoughts when Clark exited the room. They locked eyes, though Bruce couldn’t help his gaze darting down and back up.

As he suspected, the oversized shirt  _ barely _ fit him. What was loose on Bruce seemed tightly fitted to him. And the pants… well they were still a little loose at least, but they clung to the man’s hips and exposed his ankles rather than covering them as they would have on Bruce.

“Let’s go downstairs, Its been a long day, I need to sit.” Bruce suggested, already leading the way and letting Clark awkwardly follow him downstairs and into one of the living rooms.

As soon as they sat across from each other, Clark immediately launched back into apologies. “Bruce I… I realize I was being a jerk. I’m so, so sorry. I see that you were trying to help. I  _ know _ it wasn’t you, I just… wanted to be mad, but that doesn’t justify snapping at you, not at all.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “You weren’t  _ wrong _ though Clark.” Bruce muttered, folding his hands and looking down at the floor.

“What do you mean?” Clark asked, eyes wide and guilty.

“I do push people away, I keep my distance and … and I’ve been a horrible friend  _ and _ teammate.” He said, leaning forward on his hands seriously. 

“No, Bruce you’re no-”

“No, I have been. I don’t want to stay that way.” Bruce closed his eyes. “I’m not mad with you. I’m  _ upset _ because I never wanted you to think that I don’t  _ care _ , or that I think your not capable, or that you’re an ‘alien freak’.” He opened his eyes and locked gaze with Clark who was staring forward tiredly and sadly.

“I  _ know _ you care Bruce. And I  _ have _ seen you opening up, and I’ve…” he paused and bit his lip before continuing “ _ loved _ being around for every moment of it, and felt grateful that you  _ trust _ me enough to show me those sides of you.”

He then buried his head in his hands. “I was  _ projecting _ my own negative thoughts onto you, and that wasn’t okay. I was the one being a bad friend.” He said mournfully. “Your friendship means so much to me… I don’t want to ruin it.” 

Bruce thought back to when Alfred had mentioned him and Clark being more similar than either of them thought, and he was truly beginning to believe that was the case. He stood and walked around the coffee table to sit next to Clark.

“I know I’m not a model of healthy emotional expression or model of mental health by a long shot. But you have to talk about these things, you can’t keep holding it in because you think you need to be the one who has it all together all the time. It’s not fair to you, it’s not fair to  _ anyone _ .” He said, hesitantly touching Clark’s shoulder, the man flinched briefly at the touch but slowly relaxed into it and looked up at Bruce. “It’s okay to take a step back, its okay to need a moment to breathe, to think. It doesn’t make you weak or incapable.”

Clark closed his eyes. “I know… I just… I feel like I don’t have the right to complain.”

“You can complain Clark. You seem stressed out of your mind, you should let it out, if you need to.” He noted.

Even before encountering that energy being, Clark has seemed increasingly on edge, and now, it seemed he was struggling to keep his head up.

“I don’t want to feel this way. I always  _ used _ to have it together. But now I’m unfocused, I feel on the verge of a breakdown at the drop of a hat, and its making me snap at people who don’t deserve it. There’s so much misery in the world, the last thing I want to do is add to it.” He slowly turned to Bruce, eyes dilated and wet. “I never wanted to add to what your going through, ever, I never… when I saw the look on your face before you left I...felt awful, I had just been mad without thinking about how I could hurt someone I don’t know why I..!” Clark wrapped Bruce’s hand in his without thinking as he trailed off, and Bruce didn’t bat an eyelash at the gesture.

“You’re at your breaking point. It’s  _ normal _ for someone who is under a lot of pressure. Did I feel hurt afterwards? Yes. Was it right for you to take it out on me? No. But I forgive you, and I understand Clark. You’re overwhelmed. You aren’t just feeling this out of nowhere, this has been building up, even when you  _ thought _ you had it together. Today was the second time I heard you use ‘alien’ in a negative light, which  _ worries _ me.”

Clark looked down guiltily, still holding tightly onto Bruce’s hand.

Bruce took a deep breath. “You don’t need to worry about “adding to what I’m going through.” I said it wrong - today when I told you that I didn’t matter, that you were more important. I meant… I meant that you were more important to  _ me _ in that moment than anything else. I didn’t want it to be about me because I wasn’t what mattered  _ in that moment _ .”

Clark was silent for a moment, considering Bruce’s words before leaning back against the couch, completely defeated. “I just don’t know how to stop feeling this way.” 

Bruce hummed and leaned back against the couch himself thinking for a moment, relieved Clark was next to him, relieved Clark was still his friend, relieved he hadn’t screwed it up. He smiled slightly more playfully and slightly impishly and leaned his head against Clark’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I’m the one to tell you this, but you could start by finding ways to  _ relax _ and express yourself in a… constructive way?”

Clark blinked a few times at Bruce leaning against him, finally realizing their hands were still locked together.

“What do you do? To relax I mean. You seem to be pretty calm most of the time, considering.” Clark asked, shoulders slowly relaxing as he looked into Bruce’s eyes

“Meditating helps.” He answered raising an eyebrow at him. “I also find keeping journals helps to stay organized and not forget important things while also being oddly relaxing.”

Clark seemed to consider his words. “I’ve heard of people meditating to help anxiety, but I’ve never tried it myself. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Bruce hummed. Clark was back to his warm feeling self, and as the long day and conversations began to catch up for him, he realized how heavy his eyes were feeling, and Clark… well it was very hard not to want to snuggle up against him and fall asleep. He told himself Clark was “just that kind of person”, and that urge didn’t say anything else about him.

“I could teach you. If you wanted.” he suggested.

“You would do that? Even after…”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Yes Clark, even after you acted like a stubborn jackass.” He teased before closing his eyes, feeling a blissful calm wash over him. Clark was here with him, both Tim and Dick had been happy to talk to him. So much better than drinking himself to sleep to try and forget the day, he decided.

He peeked one eye at Clark, content, calm smile now clear on his face. He wasn’t sure why Clark looked a little pink in the face as he stared back at him. “Unfortunately for you, once I’ve decided I really like someone, I’m not letting them go.” He reached up and flicked Clark’s nose playfully. “You’re stuck with me space cowboy.”

This seemed to turn Clark even more red in the face as Bruce seemed perfectly content to let his exhaustion conquer him as he latched himself onto the warm body next to him.

Bruce didn’t flinch at all as a giant white and gold wing was tentatively wrapped around him as he drifted into a dazed barely awake state.

“Hey… B?” Clark whispered, testing to see if the billionaire had fallen fully asleep.

Bruce’s body couldn’t find it in him to respond as his neck decided it was done holding his head up and let it drift to lay on Clark’s chest, fully accepting the embrace of sleep.

Just barely before drifting off, a few simple soft words hit his ear.

“ _ I… love you. _ ”

To anyone else, it might have sounded like the tired bat had simply mumbled in response, but to a super-powered being with super-hearing, the response was crystal clear despite the man’s mouth barely having the wherewithal to move, completely uninhibited by his awake mind.

“ _ I love you too.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is very tired and was trying very hard today.  
> Tbh I banged this chapter out after the last one because I needed some positive relationship development to heal my soul a little.


	15. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce helps Clark to chill, and Clark helps Bruce as his grieving bubbles to the surface.

When Bruce woke, it was with a start after an incredibly deep sleep. He snapped his head around, wings flailing and flapping behind him just as confused as he was, the only thought in his mind that he had fallen asleep leaning on Superman.

He rubbed his eyes and slowly realizing he was in his bed. He had been gingerly tucked in with the clothes he had been wearing the previous night minus his shoes that were set carefully next to the bed. He rubbed his head, realizing Clark must have taken him to bed and taken his shoes off for him.

He almost smiled but his mouth was immediately forced open in a loud yawn as he stretched, feathers rattling as he opened his wingspan to its full length before swinging himself out of bed to find his phone and change clothing.

His nostrils flared as he lightly sniffed the air. There was definitely coffee being brewed downstairs that he wanted to gulp down as soon as possible. As he got dressed, he realized, there was likely no way Alfred would let a guest leave in the middle of a storm, even if he could fly. Which meant Clark had to still be here.

He pretended he wasn’t the least bit excited to rush down and greet Clark first thing, particularly since they had reconciled the previous night.

Once dressed he rushed downstairs, only to slow his pace knowing Clark was more than capable of hearing him walking faster than normal. Except then he got impatient again and decided to speed up when he was getting close because damn these halls seemed to go on forever like some sort of strangely decorated labyrinth.

Confirming his suspicions, he saw Clark sitting at the counter, mug of coffee in hand, tightly fitting shirt that Bruce had lent him the previous night riding up slightly as he leaned forward. Alfred was chatting to him jovially about a recipe he had been planning to try out in a newly purchased cookbook, Clark seemed to be seeing if the cookbook could be a potential gift for his mother as well. 

Clark’s eyes seemed to light up when he spotted Bruce entering the room to retrieve coffee. Bruce blamed his brain freezing up and pulling a blank on his lack of caffeine and definitely not on the way Clark’s smile towards him reminded him of butterscotch and honey.

“Hey B!” Clark chirped.

Bruce took a long sip of coffee before sitting next to Clark at the counter. 

“Morning.” He responded before rubbing some sleep out of his eyes so he could better focus on the man beside him. “If I’m slow to answer its because I’m…”

“Not a morning person?” Clark finished, continuing to smile dreamily at Bruce as he leaned on his hand propped up by leaning his arm on the counter.

Bruce wasn’t a hundred percent sure why Clark was looking at him like that.

“Don’t worry Bruce, you don’t have to explain. Honestly, if I didn’t have the whole ‘power from the sun’ thing and Pa hadn’t dragged me out of bed every morning as a kid to help him with farm work I’d probably be more of an evening person too.” 

Bruce raised his eyebrow at him, wrapping his hands around his mug to warm them. “So basically if you were completely different you’d be a night owl? Got it.” He teased.

Clark laughed. “Shoot, I guess you’re right.”

Alfred looked between them briefly with a rather delighted expression on his face, then set down a hearty breakfast before them that Bruce hadn’t even noticed him making. He supposed he had been too set on his goals towards Coffee and Clark to even pay the other smells and activity in the kitchen any mind. Alfred accepted their ‘thank you’s’ and left the room with a smile on his face.

Clark was about to take his first bite of Alfred’s patented blueberry pancakes before pausing. “Oh, hey! I hope you don’t mind I’m still here, I was going to head out but…”

Bruce smiled as he poured a copious amount of maple syrup over his pancakes and sausages. “I’m guessing Alfred caught you and insisted you stay while he dried your ‘outerwear’ yes?”

Clark smiled sheepishly. “Well… yeah… and he convinced me easily since we… well… you know last night.” He turned a little pink in the face as a calm content expression danced across his features. “I didn’t really want to just leave you after something like that.”

Bruce thought for a minute trying not to panic as he wasn’t a hundred percent sure what Clark was referring to, shoving a bit of pancake in his mouth as he thought through his last few moments of consciousness the night before. Let’s see… he had promised Clark to teach him to meditate, maybe that was…

Like a tsunami the memory of Clark’s soft words that drifted into his mind as he neared passing out re-entered his mind. Not only that, the words that he himself had spilled out- coming from a deep place inside of him that had taken the opportunity to reveal itself in one of its few times it had been left open.

“I… didn’t dream that?” This time it was his turn pink in the face as and a half disintegrated blueberry momentarily caught in his throat.

Clark shook his head with a calm smile on his face.”Not unless we both had the same dream at the same time.”

 Bruce didn’t know what to do with his best friend, his colleague, with _Clark_ looking at him like that. Gazing at him with half-lidded dilated eyes like he was some sort of rare delicacy, or a beautiful sunset on the horizon. It startled him if he was being completely honest with himself, he didn’t know where to place that look, didn’t know how to accept that gaze was directed at him. He sat there flustered and lost for words, once again wondering how long Clark had been looking at him like that, why he hadn’t noticed, or what he had done to deserve it.

“...You said you love me.” Bruce stated like he was reading the phrase from a college textbook.

“So did you.” Clark replied, looking at Bruce hopefully.

Bruce toyed with the maple soaked pancake on his plate, tearing it apart like he was doing an autopsy.

“Did you mean it?” Clark followed up, running his finger around the rim of his coffee mug, his right wing twitched slightly before he huddled them up around his back sheepishly.

“Did you?” Bruce countered defensively, stabbing a chunk of pancakes as if punishing it, staring at it too avoid looking at the other man.

“Of course I did, but I asked you first.” Clark pointed out, nudging Bruce’s leg with his foot, quietly pleading Bruce to look at him.

“I wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t mean it.” Bruce mumbled, slowly moving his eyes away from the demolished pancake.

Silence blossomed between them, eyes locked together finally. Clark reached for Bruce seemingly contemplating cupping his cheek, or running a hand through his black feathers, or even just picking up Bruce’s hand and holding it tenderly. Instead, his fingers curled in the air, losing confidence, and he slowly retracted his hand and looked away - unsure of himself.

“What… do we do now?” Clark asked quietly.

It was a more than a reasonable question in Bruce’s mind as well, though a question he certainly didn’t have a coherent answer to.

“What do… what do you _want_ to do?”  He asked fully turning his body in his chair to face Clark’s.

“There’s a _lot_ of things I want to do.” Clark admitted eyes scanning the floor, shaded with a deep sadness.

Bruce stood, noticing Clark start to fold his wings around himself, forming a barrier between them as he hid his face and leaned forward against the counter.

“Clark?” Bruce asked, lightly pushing Clark’s wing to implore the man to let him a step closer. 

Clark slowly relented and Bruce found him looking at him again now with Clark’s massive wings folded around both of them protectively. 

“It’s not like I don’t have my concerns, but I want to hear from you first.” Bruce said softly, trying to appear more kind than demanding as he had found himself doing in the past. “Talk to me Clark.”

“Bruce I… It’s not just wanting to be with you in the purely romantic sense, I want to _know_ all of you. I want to stand by your side and have you by mine. I want to see you every morning and be reminded that you’re _real_. I want to love you and be your best friend for the rest of our lives… but I’ve come so close to ruining it twice now. How could I ask you to be with me when I’ve been so nasty out of my own…” He paused before hissing bitterly. “ _Insecurities_ ” ? I don’t… want to fall apart on you.”

Bruce inhaled deeply through his nose, not surprised Clark’s talent for words and speeches would translate into him pouring his heart out like this.

“Clark. I’ve hurt you more than once.” Bruce pointed out. “It’s really easy to hurt the people we love, _stupidly_ easy, because you know them so well, part of you also knows what their weak points are.”  

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and wiped his eyes briefly, a bit a fatigue still present in them before refocusing, having allowed his thoughts to gather. 

“I can be insensitive and cold, you don’t know where to put your stress and we _both_ bury our feelings until they come out in ugly ways. _I_ don’t want to be that way anymore, and from what we talked about, I _know_ you don’t either.” He took the initiative as Clark’s eyes began to dilate and put his hands on top of Clark’s and leaning up closer to him while being sure to retain eye-contact. despite having to stand on his toes do to Clark still sitting in the high chair and already being taller than him. 

“I know it won’t be easy, and we’re both going to make mistakes but I’m willing to try to change, and I want…” He stammered as he rambled on, Clark’s hands now squeezing his shoulders beginning to make his brain short-circuit despite wanting to finish his thought. “I want to try to figure it out with you. If that’s what you want too.”

“I do want that.” Clark said softly. “You said you had concerns too though Bruce, I want to hear them too.”

“It may honestly just be me overthinking things…” Bruce trailed off, that’s what most people in his past relationships tended to note anyway.

Clark shook his head. “Maybe or maybe not, I still want to hear what you have to say.”

Bruce studied his face for a moment. Clark looked completely focused on him, ready to latch on to every little word and consider it. It was… appreciated.

“There’s our identities for one, Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent can’t be seen together in a romantic or even familiar manner, unless you want you and your family to be hounded by paparazzi for the rest of your lives and have your privacy ripped away from you.” 

Clark nodded, it was clear the same line of thinking had run through his head too. 

“I could potentially drop some funds to ensure they stayed out of the public eye for the most part, though I’ve found even that’s not a permanent solution, and they might have to relocate. I don’t think you want to do that to them. We could meet in disguise, or go out in other countries where we wouldn’t be recognized by anyone.” Bruce explained, mind already beginning to create the branching paths of possibilities and solutions, both good and bad. “Then there’s there’s the thought of if this…” He calmly touched Clark’s right hand still holding his shoulder. “If this ends, or goes horribly wrong - we’re considered key members of the league, if we started fighting or falling apart, the effects would ripple out dramatically.”

“Your right.” Clark let go of his shoulders, and Bruce immediately missed the warmth that had left with his hands. “But if it did come to that, I don’t believe that we’d be so incapable of acting like adults or figuring it out that we couldn’t manage to leave our drama outside of the league. That’s definitely something I think we should and could figure out _if_ it comes to it.”

Bruce nodded, slightly reassured by Clark’s words. 

“As for the identity stuff… I’m worried about that too, but hey! I wouldn’t mind going on dates with you in places we wouldn’t be recognized. Besides maybe for both our sakes and sanity it would be good to…”

“Take it slow?” They said at the same time before smiling at each other fondly.

“Yes. Yes that would be… that would be for the best.” Bruce agreed before taking a step back to drink more of his coffee and rub his neck that had gone slightly stiff from a deep sleep. “Deep down I still think you deserve better than me. I’m not really sure what I did for you to feel that way.” he said honestly.

Immediately as he said it he expected Clark to be annoyed, or even go into another long speech, but instead he quirked his eyebrow at him. “Bruce Wayne, are you implying there’s a way to quantify the value of a human being?”

Bruce sucked in his coffee through his windpipe in surprise and sputtered, spitting it back out and sending it cascading into his own face.

“What? No! That’s not… “ he reached for a paper towel as he panicked, only to catch the _look_ Clark was giving him and become annoyed. “You wipe that shit-eating grin off your face _right now_ Kent!”

“Uh oh, he brought out the dad voice, what did you do?” A new voice joined in amusement. 

Bruce’s head shot to Tim who walked in also grinning, and sat back in his chair with a huff and Clark just laughed heartily. 

Bruce shook his head silently enjoying the sweet sound of Clark’s overjoyed laughter as much as he tried to look annoyed.

“Any news this morning Tim?” He asked, knowing the boy likely had already gone down to the Batcave before him.

“Nothing special to report. Barbra is out right now, said she’d call if she needed help. You did get a message from Diana, saying she suspected your guy was leaving out a lot of information but he’s still cooperating for the time being, though apparently Constantine is really annoyed with him and Zatanna has had ‘a _look_ on her face’… whatever that means.” He paused after pulling out his plate that Alfred had left on keep warm in the oven. “Guess she knew you’d want to know everything was still okay.” 

“She’s amazing.” Clark muttered leaning on his hand and finishing his sausages thoughtfully.

“She’s more than amazing.” Bruce conquered, starting to finally consume his pancakes without even really noticing he was eating, his body just seemingly copying what Clark was doing.

“If that’s the case…” Bruce pointed his fork at Clark. “You’re going to go change before you rip out of that clothing, then your coming back here.”

Clark blinked in surprise. “I mean, I’m happy to be hanging around longer but any particular reason why?”

“I’m going to teach you to meditate and _breathe_.” Bruce declared very matter-of-fact-ly.

“Oh! I well.. Okay. Do I.. should I wear anything specific?” He stammered.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at him very seriously. “Don’t you know? You must wear the very specific enchanted spandex pants of meditation.” He then nudged Clark’s arm as Tim covered his mouth to avoid spitting out food from laughing. “Just wear something comfortable you doughnut.”

Clark turned a little pink “Alright alright, I’m sorry! I’ve never done this before.”

“Clearly.” Bruce teased.

Clark dutifully rose with his now empty plate and rinsed it and his fork off and set them in the dishwasher before turning around. “I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail!” He announced before blurring and disappearing entirely as he took off out of site.

“Two shakes of a lamb’s…. “Bruce mumbled. “What the hell.” He took out his phone and made a note to add yet another one of Clark’s strange idioms to his growing collection.

“Sooo….” Tim began. “What happened between you two?”

“We made out..” Bruce’s eyes widened realizing his vocal slip. “UP! Up we made _UP!”_ he shouted in a panic.

But it was too late, the damage was done, Tim had already gaped at him before grinning devilishly and excitedly. “OH MY GOD! You made out with Superman!” He shouted.

“I did not!” Bruce protested, refusing for false accusations to be made against him.

“You did! You _so_ did!” Tim said pointing at him.

“No! Not yet, We did not!” Bruce said stubbornly, wings rising in warning.

Tim leaned back with a big self-satisfied grin. “So there’s a _yet_ , huh? Which means you were thinking about it. That’s a pretty big Freudian slip right there.”

“ _Tim_.” Bruce grumbled while turning a bright shade of red, which only made Tim laugh harder.

“Alright, alright. I’ll drop it.”

Bruce mumbled and grumbled and wound up stabbing a sausage with his fork as if the tube of meat was to blame for his vocal slip up.

Clark was suddenly back, and despite Bruce being used to Clark disappearing and reappearing at super-speed, he was still feeling jumpy from his brain trying to fully catch up with their conversation. Bruce just barely maintained his composure as he set his fork down and got off the chair. 

“Tell Alfred to save the rest for later for me will you?” He asked Tim out of habit.

“Mff-will” Tim mumbled with a mouth full of pancake and a slight glance up from his phone.

Both Bruce and Clark shared a huff at amusement at Tim talking with his mouth full, heading off to let Alfred be the parent to scold him lightly for a lack of table manners. “For you Clark, We’ll go outside to do this.” Bruce teased as he led Clark out the back of the manor towards the garden’s that he barely spent any time outside of occasionally going to see Alfred while he was out there, it was one of the few hobbies his father figure seemed to really indulge in outside of cooking and baking - which you could argue is just an extension of his work even if it was something he enjoyed doing.

“Your laying on the sweetness this morning, huh?” Clark said, somehow beaming brighter than the sun overhead.

Bruce looked at him for a moment, scolding himself because dammit he should be used to how flusteringly sunny and bright Clark could be.

“… you owe me for putting my _perfect alabaster skin_ on the line for you.” He said with a dramatic hand on his forehead.

“Is that what they call “unhealthy pale from never going outside during the day” now?” Clark teased, falling in step with Bruce as they stepped into the garden.

Bruce took a second to admire it along with Clark, he hadn’t come into it in a while after all. A rather classic ornate fountain sat in the middle. He had fond memories of his mother sitting and reading with him next to the fountain. The garden itself was mostly decorated with rose bushes that had been carefully cultivated and trimmed. On the west side he saw the vegetable garden Alfred would occasionally harvest for meals. He also noted an empty plot on the east side he remembered Alfred mentioning he hadn’t figured out what to do with yet. He didn’t have an eye for garden layouts, but he thought he might ask Alfred if they could integrate sunflowers somehow.

He hummed and finally responded to Clark’s teasing as he strode forward.

“ _You_ don’t burn to a crisp and turn lobster red like I do.” 

He sat down on the ridge of the fountain in the center of the garden, patting the flat stone next to him to tell Clark to join him.

“Fair enough.” Clark gave in with a chuckle, running a hand through the water and fluffing some of his feathers through the streams of water with a hum as he perched next to Bruce. “So. What do I do to meditate? Will this help me reach enlightenment?”

Bruce shook his head and snickered. “Who knows? Maybe you haven’t unlocked all the potential of that super-brain of yours yet.”

He sat cross-legged on the stone ledge. Clark immediately mirrored him, obviously doing his best to copy exactly what Bruce did to learn.

“This won’t be some magic solution, but it's important for you to have a tool to have it in your head to try to breathe and pull yourself back instead of letting those things consume you.” Bruce explained fixing his posture, so he was sitting up straight, satisfied when Clark nodded in understanding.

“Close your eyes and take deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth with me.” Bruce began. He hadn’t done guided help for keeping calm and dealing with stress since Dick still lived with him and had nightmares almost every night. 

“This is your time, let yourself escape. Empty your mind and allow any concerns to fade away. If something crosses your mind, that’s okay, acknowledge it and let it move on.”

“Okay…” Clark said, unsure of himself, but continued to breathe with Bruce, anyway.

“Focus on your breath, if you have any lingering stress or feelings of anger, imagine it flowing out along with your breath.”

“Like a dragon?” Clark suggested with a mumble.

“Sure. Like a Dragon.” Bruce hummed rolling his eyes with amusement under his eyelids. “The point is to metaphorically “Let it out”.”

Clark breathed deeply a few times before letting out a very long exasperated breath. The sound itself Bruce recognized all too well coming out of his own mouth. The sound of one too many long nights, lives lost, guilt, pain, anger, all rolled into fire tired breath that came roaring out of the pit of your stomach where all that stress tended to be stored.

He then noticed Clark starting to breathe more shallowly, losing the rhythm they had previously been in sync on. 

“You’re not focused Clark.”

He felt Clark jolt slightly next to him. “Sorry! I just! I thought I heard something…”

“Is it an emergency?” Bruce asked, raising one eyebrow without opening his eyes. 

“…No… No I don’t think… No it’s not.” He stammered.

“Then pull back and refocus. Try to listen to something around us that’s more rhythmic and calming like the water or the wind in the leaves.” Bruce explained patiently.

Clark paused for a moment then slowly started breathing deep again, this time, staying calm and focused as the seconds ticked by. Bruce himself allowed his body to relax, trying to keep his own stray thoughts out of his head.

He could hear both his and Clark’s feathers rustle as the breeze passed through them, he allowed his wings to settle and graze the fountain water.

A new relationship always carried some amount of excitement, In a way, especially to someone like Bruce who was so guarded.

He remembered, the looks of disappointment or sadness in the faces of lost loves when they found out he couldn’t take romantic flights with them that were so often portrayed as the height of romance in movies or books.

Sometimes, he’d been carried, and it felt nice… but deep down Bruce also hated it. He felt like a weight dragging someone he loved down. 

His breath hitched, realizing if they were fighting, if something horrible were to happen to Clark while fighting in the air… He’d be grounded, unable to help. Useless…

He tried to focus on his breath, push the thought out of his head. He was doing so _good_ before now dammit.

Except that word was back, and pounding through his mind stronger with every beat of his heart.

_“Useless”_

_“Useless”_

_“Useless”_

He clenched his teeth and inhaled sharply through his nose. 

“ _Not **now** dammit!”_ He begged his own mind.

“ _If you could have just flown then, she’d still be alive.”_ An insidious side of himself whispered.

“ _No. I was a child. It’s not my fault._ ” He tried to insist back. Plenty of others had told him so. 

“ _You were pulling Harvey down. He had to carry you when he already had so much to carry. If you could fly, you could have stopped the accident from happening. You would have been **faster.** ”_

He clenched his fists. “ _It’s not my fault! I tried to help! It’s not my fault my wings don’t work!_ ”

“ _Isn’t it though? There’s nothing physically wrong with them. So why can’t you fly Bruce?”_

He didn’t notice the warm hand that touched his own as he began to shiver. Darkness enveloped him, he felt like he was falling. He heard his own mother’s voice in his ear clear as day, just as it had been that night he lost everything.

“ _Fly Bruce! Please!”_ She called desperately, voice dripping with panic.

“ _Please… my little robin! Come on!”_

The last things his mother ever said to him, and he hadn’t even tried to go with her.

“Bruce, hey Bruce?!” Clark’s voice finally cut through.

Bruce’s eyes shot open, chest heaving, mind nearing a panic from the invasive thoughts that had slammed into him like a hurricane.

“Clark…” he finally said, mouth dry.

He looked down at the hand over his and slowly unclenched his fists. “Ha… Some meditation teacher I am.” Bruce muttered, trying to smile despite wiping at his eyes. Despite the fact they were dry he didn’t want to take any chances. “I guess I lost myself there for a sec.”

“I was…. I’m sorry if this is weird, but I was listening to your heartbeat, I got worried because it picked up really suddenly.” Clark said, eyes wide as he turned to face Bruce fully. “You don’t need to apologize Bruce. I was just worried.”

Bruce grumbled. “That’s the exact opposite of what I was trying to make you feel.” He closed his eyes again in frustration. “Obviously it's not a perfect system since I let my thoughts get… _out_ _of control.”_

_“_ Hey, hey, B It’s okay! You don’t need to worry about it. It was already helping, and now.. I know what to do so I could do it on my own if I wanted, right? I know nothing is going to solve everything overnight, I have work to do… but you’ve given me a tool to help me work on it, okay?”

Bruce could only manage to grumble in response, hearing Clark but still feeling ashamed.

“Do you want to talk about it? What you were thinking?”

Bruce’s head shot to Clark in alarm, already ready to protest.

“Hey, look- I know it's not your thing. But sometimes it's good to put those thoughts somewhere and get them out rather than stew on them, right? That’s kind of what you’ve been telling me too right?” Clark encouraged, now cupping Bruce’s right hand in his and rubbing it affectionately with his thumb.

Bruce glanced off to the side. “I don’t want to make everything about me. Not when I wanted to do this for you.”

“You're not Bruce. You’ve let me talk plenty of times and listened to me. And now I want to do the same… if you're willing. It’s part of getting better together, right?”

Bruce furrowed his brows as he stared down at the ground, slowly gripping Clark’s hand back. If Clark were human, he might have callouses and rough hands from both all the work he did growing up on a farm - but instead they were just big, soft, warm, and smooth… just like the rest of him.

“I was thinking, about how excited I was feeling at the possibilities of us being _together_ like that.” He began, words coming out slowly as he tried to push himself to open up. “But then I started thinking about all the times I _was_ in love, and wanted to _show_ how much I loved someone, but I’m always just… stuck on the ground.”

He finally looked into Clark’s eyes and leaned forward, words starting to flow out easier as Clark looked at him without judgement or disinterest. 

“That night, when you were carrying me home from the fortress, for a moment it felt like I could _imagine_ what it was like to fly with someone, to feel that kind of _freedom_ with another person. But I still just have to be _carried_. Harvey used to try to fling me into the air, and I’d manage to glide down to him.” He smiled slightly at the memory. “He was a lot stronger than me and I was a lot _smaller_ at the time. It was so _fun_ and it made us _happy_ \- but it was a constant reminder that I’m… “He cursed that the word that had such a fun and fancy free time bombarding his mind felt so hard to say. “ _Useless._ ” He hissed bitterly, wings collapsing behind him, part of his wingspan sinking into the fountain water.

“You're not useless Bruce. You’re a great leader, you save so many lives and so much _good_.” Clark pointed out.

“But not when it _counts_.” Bruce countered raising his voice more than he meant to in frustration. “When my parents died, my mother tried to fly away with me, tried to get me to go with her, but _I couldn’t._ I _froze_ right up until it was too late. I took the bullet to my wing, and she came _back_ for me.” He heaved. “There’s been so many times since then… so many disasters I could have prevented if I could just _fly_ , because if I could fly I’d be _faster_. I could have prevented Harvey from having his face burned, I could have been there for my sons to help them learn to fly… “ He grit his teeth, hating how emotional he was getting, hating how _weak_ he felt.

Even if Clark continued to just listen, continued to hold his hand so sweetly and comfortingly; He hated the feeling of falling apart in front of another person when he had always tried so hard to be strong, in control. Maybe this felt normal and natural for others, but it felt completely alien to him.

He began to get choked up as his thoughts finally landed on a loss so recent, so raw, that the hole left behind from it was still deep and dark despite his efforts since coming something close to being functional again. He had still danced around it, it had blown the whole family apart more than ever - except for Tim who had come in after, insistent and determined.

“M-My son… Jason….” Bruce began to weep. “He needed me and I wasn’t there!”

Immediately as he uttered his departed son’s name Clark yanked him into his arms, pressing Bruce’s face tightly into his chest. Bruce found comfort in being able to hide his face, burying it in Clark’s embrace as one hand tangled itself in his hair while the other kept them flush against each other.

“If I had just b-been faster… If I could have _flown_ to him, I could have saved him, I could have stopped it! If my wings weren’t useless, he’d still be alive!” He sobbed, voice muffled from his face being burried, but he was fully aware Clark could hear him just fine.

He reached his arms around the other man, gripping at his shirt and never wanting that warmth to ever leave him _ever_ again despite the fact he was starting to bawl his eyes out with the grief that had gone unexpressed for almost two years.

“Oh Bruce…” Clark whispered softly, starting to comb through Bruce’s soft hair with his fingers. 

Bruce’s mind came to a slow halt, dealing with the current wave of emotions starting to prove too much for him to want to continue trying to push through and let out. He went still in Clark’s arms as he was held tight and softly rocked back and forth. He breathed shakily as he shifted his head slightly so he was in a somewhat more comfortable position with his ear pressed against Clark’s chest. He softened his arms gripped around Clark’s torso but didn’t let go, slowly trying to bring himself down from his emotional outburst, already feeling drained and wanting to lock those feelings back up for the time being.

He slowly began to relax, and realized he could faintly hear Clark’s heartbeat. It was slightly slower than the average human heartbeat, rhythmic and powerful. He sighed, beginning to imagine how nice it would be to fall sleep on that chest and slip into nice dreams with the sound of that heart to lull him to a peaceful sleep.

“It’s not your fault B, God It’s not your fault.” Clark hushed after having given Bruce a moment to let it out and come down.

“None of them would blame you for the things that have happened. You’ve done so many amazing things despite not being able to fly, and you don’t _know_ for sure what might have happened. It all might have happened anyway, or even been worse. You may fly again, you might not, but it’s _okay_. You’ve never let it stop you. The fact that you try so hard, that your so kind when you have every reason and justification to turn bitter against the world - you turn around and save people every day… you never stopped being a kind amazing person.” He pulled slightly away so he could look Bruce in the eyes and smile at him before. “That’s why you’ve always been my hero.” He gushed, practically starry eyed as he decided to cup Bruce’s cheeks.

Bruce stared back at him doe-eyed and body stiff. “You’re… going to make me cry again, and I don’t _like_ crying.” Bruce said shakily. 

Clark chuckled. “It’s okay to cry you know.”

Bruce sniffled slightly and chuckled along with him, holding the hands cupping his face. “I know it's _okay_ I just don’t _like_ it, my nose gets all stuffy.” He sniffled again, this time exaggerating it slightly, coy smile starting to slip onto his face.

After a moment, he finally lifted his wing out of the water and flicked the water off onto the ground behind him sighing wearily and closed his eyes. “I just…wish I could _be_ up there with you.” 

“Well, maybe someday you’ll get there.” Clark encouraged. “And if you don’t… that’s okay too.” He said with honey-coated words.

Bruce breathed deeply, bringing himself down. “I will say, that’s the first time in a long time I’ve lost control while trying to just the opposite.”

“This past month has been a lot, I feel like it’s not completely surprising to feel drained after it.” Clark replied thoughtfully, shifting to hold Bruce’s hands while he glanced up at the clouds in the sky. “I mean… you've been opening up a lot, it has to be draining.”

“I’ve been trying really hard to be better.” Bruce mumbled, leaning against Clark’s shoulder contently.

“I know you are, just don’t burn yourself out - you don’t have to figure it all out right away.”

“I’m Batman, I always have everything figured out…. because I’m Batman.”

Clark huffed in amusement. “Maybe both Batman and Superman don’t have to have everything figured out. Maybe it’s okay they mess up. Better to be aware of it then become arrogant and justified in messing up, right?”

“You're not wrong.” Bruce smiled, turning his head to look back up into Clark’s eyes. “I’m just debating if it's good or not for the rest of the world to know that. Is it better to try to appear perfect if it makes people feel ‘safe’… or is it better for people to know the truth?”

Clark shook his head leaning back slightly with a sigh. “I’ve been thinking about that question a lot lately…” He trailed off, still looking at the sky, gaze seeming to stare beyond the clouds, into the stars where Bruce couldn’t follow.

Bruce’s gaze shifted along Clark’s profile, landing on the lips that were pulled in a flat line as the man’s brain ticked away.

Would it be inappropriate right now? Was it too soon? Maybe after the past few days - where they had come together so close without acknowledging anything deeper… clashing then splitting apart only to come crashing back together- he just wanted to share something soft, calm, and sweet with him. It had all been so much, could doing such a thing really be so simple?

“Clark?” Bruce asked quietly.

Clark blinked a few times before turning his head to fully focus on Bruce looking up at him.

“Hmm?”

He was right there, so close. Even if they both wanted to go slow, what was wrong with a simple peck on the lips of appreciation.

Clark, realizing what Bruce was leaning in to do, followed his lead with a content smile on his face. Their lips just barley grazed each other and…

Clark froze as a voice crackled in his ear from the ear piece the whole league wore in case of an emergency call - and Bruce himself stopped with their lips barely touching each other realizing he must have forgotten to put his back in when he woke up, or it might have fallen out in his sleep.

“Ey, Bats? Big Blue? Either of you got a moment?”

_“Ffffffff….”_ Clark grumbled pulling away to press a hand to his earpiece.

He stared at Clark gleefully, had the boy scout been about to swear in frustration.

“Constantine? I’m here, go ahead.” He replied, hand pressed to his ear while he stared forward with a glare that Bruce had a hard time trying not to laugh at.

Constantine paused for a moment, hearing the slight irritation in Clark’s voice, but deciding not to comment. 

“Yeah, me and Zee want to talk to you both about this guy. Think Wonder Woman gave Bats an update this morning, but we have a theory about where he’s even getting the energy to attempt this from. I need you and Batman to confirm the kind of stuff you’ve seen him doing though.”

Bruce leaned in so he could just barely hear Constantine’s voice, frustrated he managed to forget something important.

“Batman is with me. We can meet up in the watchtower ASAP.” Clark confirmed as he stood up, posture already changing to look more strong and determined even out of costume.

“Great, meet ya up there.”

Zatanna’s voice then popped in. “Tell Batman… we managed to finally get an answer from him on why he’s so set on Gotham in particular. He’s… not going to like it.”

“I’ll tell him, Thanks Zee.” He replied looking at Bruce with furrowed brows.

Batman nodded, taking it as the cue to spring into action. “I’ll catch up with you. Tell them I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“Got it.”

He heard Clark take off and vanish behind him as he bolted back into the manor and into the cave, Tim caught up with him soon after to check in as Bruce suited up.

“You need me?”

“I’m meeting up with Constantine and Zatana in the watchtower, so no, not this time.” He pulled his gloves and turned his gaze to Tim. “Check in with Dick and Barbra too. They might need an extra set of eyes on patrol.”

Tim shuffled his feet. “Or you know… I could always patrol on my…”

Alarm bells went off in Bruce’s head as he slipped his armor onto his wings. “Absolutely not.”

“But!”

“ _No_ Tim. Not by yourself.” He said a little more sharply, putting his foot down.

“I can handle myself, you’ve seen m-!”

“I _know_ you can, but you're still a 14 year old...”

“ _Almost_ 15.” Tim pointed out as if 15 was any better.

“And even when I’m out on my own I still need backup sometimes.” Batman said firmly pulling on the cowl.

Tim bit his lip and looked at the ground in frustration. Batman sighed and kneeled down in front of him. “ _Please_ Tim, for my nerves and sanity promise me you won’t go out on your own.” He pleaded, looking the boy in the eyes.

Tim still looked disappointed but slowly relented. “Yeah, okay, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Batman replied with a sigh of relief as he darted towards the teleported to the watchtower to save some time. “I’ll be back later”

As soon as he found himself in the watchtower he sped walked his way to catch up with the others, ignoring the other Leaguers that flew past him to get to their destination faster.

“There he is, the old Bat himself.” Constantine greeted with a smile.

“I came as soon as I could. Diana mentioned in her message that you weren’t very happy with him.” He asked, stepping next to Superman who gave him a side glance and a smile. 

Constantine tapped his foot and crossed his arms. “He’s acting all friendly, but he’s so purposefully vague even with Wonder Woman drilling him that he’s leaving us to try to fill in the details.”

Zatanna nodded in slight exasperation. “It started with him telling the truth when he said he wasn’t using any other energy source to reduce someone’s age. Which… it didn’t really make sense at first, but he wasn’t lying.”

Superman raised his eyebrow. “Surely, you can’t do something that… _unnatural_ without having some sort of _unnatural_ energy source, right? I mean I don’t know this stuff too well but…”

“No, you’re right. That’s what we thought too.” Zatanna agreed.

“Then when we realized, after he mentioned the whole de-aging cult stuff wasn’t really his end goal again…” Constantine began.

“The cult, the de-aging, _is_ the power source.” Zatanna finished. 

“How does that work?” Batman asked.

“We’re all so used to thinking of age as a bad thing, but think of what can come with it.” Constantine began. “Experience, wisdom, knowledge, history… growing old is a normal part of someone’s life, and he’s…”

Bruce realized where they were going with this. “And he’s taking a part of their life away from them.”

“Exactly. He’s using people’s vanity and fear of aging to get them to _willingly_ give up massive chunks of their own life and life force. In a way, the older the better.” Zatanna explained. 

“Does it have any negative affects otherwise?” Batman asked.

As it stood, it still sounded like a relatively harmless way of gathering energy… though he still didn’t approve of the cult mentality at all.

“That’s one of the things we need to find out next, but we’d need to get a good look at the people he’s used his abilities to heal or take life from.” Constantine leaned back against the wall. “We tried to ask the bastard for a list of people but he kept just insisting ‘I don’t have them all memorized’.” He explained with a roll of his eyes.

“Where is he now?” Superman asked.

“We got him in one of the holding cells in the containment facility designed to keep magic-users locked up. He’s away from the cells for the more _dangerous_ ones for now though.” He assured, starting to get visibly antsy from not being in a smoking location of the watchtower.

“Good.” Batman replied, reassured. “I can identify a few names of his cult members, as well as their location.”

“Great! That’s what I was hoping.” Constantine said with a sigh of relief now knowing he didn’t have to do the tracking down himself.

“I’ll have the list for you in less than thirty minutes.” Batman stated, already turning to head to the watchtower computer to make a thorough list based both on his own memory and knowledge as well as the computer’s facial recognition software.

“Oh! Batman wait… do you mind, I need to tell you something… _Just_ you.” Zatanna protested, her eyes briefly darting to Superman and Constantine, who seemed to both get the message and start to wander out while Batman stopped and turn to her.

He felt Clark’s hand graze his briefly, momentarily hooking his pinky around his as a very quiet show of affection and a sort of “see you later” gesture before they left the room.

As soon as they left, he focused on Zatanna fully. “That’s right, Superman mentioned there was something I “wasn’t going to like”. What’s going on Zee?”

She took a deep breath, something she had found out obviously weighing hard on her chest. “The reason he’s in Gotham, who he _really_ wants to sucessfully raise from the dead once I _assume_ he has enough energy to do so.”

Bruce stared at her, worrying about what her next words would be. He had targeted Bruce Wayne specifically as soon as he saw him in attendance at his cult meeting, a sick feeling formed in his stomach worrying his suspicions to raise people as high profile as Thomas and Martha Wayne were correct.

“It’s… It’s Jason, Bruce.”

Bruce froze, staring forward right through her.

“Why?” He choked out, demanding more than questioning.

“According to _him_ , he had read about Jason’s death, related to what _Bruce Wayne_ must be going through. Apparently because it happened more… _recently_ and there’s people living who knew him… as he said it’d be a lot _easier_.” Zatanna explained, gripping onto her own arm looking at Bruce both nervously and sympathetically.

“No.” Batman growled.

“He’s… He’s probably projecting his grief onto you Bruce, It’s him making a step towards him bringing his own children back.” Zatanna said shakily. “I’m not trying to defend him or… or…” She bit her lip, on some level knowing her next question was one she shouldn’t ask, and yet it slipped out, anyway. “But is it… something you _want?_ If there were no other consequences?”

“I _want_ him to have never died in the first place.” Bruce hissed. “And I want _him_ to mind his own business.”

“Bruce I…”

“There’s something wrong here, no one can wave a magic wand and bring someone back from the dead without consequences. The Lazarus pit causes insanity, and you could argue someone come back from the dead from there isn’t really that person, anyway.” Batman said decidedly, nothing but anger tinging the edge of his otherwise eerily calm voice.

“He’s manipulative, and _very_ good at pinpointing other’s _weaknesses.”_ He narrowed his eyes at Zatanna. “No matter what he offers he is _not_ some saintly savior, do you understand me?” He accused, taking a very unappreciated tone of voice that sounded like a parent telling off their child.

Zatanna took a step back, looking a little insulted. “I never implied he was.”

“You're _tempted_.” Batman bit back stubbornly.

She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. “No. I’m not. But I think _you_ are.”

“I’m…”

“Look, Batman, go make your list, I’ll see you around.” She dismissed, obviously ticked off at the way he had been talking to her.

He stared at her back as she left, huffing angrily as he stalked towards the computer with a very obvious thunderstorm circling his head.

“ _Jason is dead._ ” He told himself as he glared forward, scaring a young staff member into falling over and scrambling to pull himself out of the way as Batman marched past.

He thought about how Dorian’s experiments were conscious for a few brief moments before succumbing to reliving their deaths, every… single… painful second of them. The thought of him attempting his experiment on Jason, seeing his son’s face again, holding him, only for him to slowly been in agony as he relived every blow to his face, body, everything leading up to his final moments where he was there… dying, bleeding out, and alone… only for him to die, and for Bruce to loose him again in the most horrific way… watching him dying right before him and not able to do anything.

“ _Jason is dead, and he’s going to stay that way.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah! Thank you for sticking around and reading this far!  
> I appreciate reading all of your comments and thoughts, but there's unfortunately something I need to address since it was on my mind to the point of inhibiting me even trying to work more on this story.  
> So I have had a pretty solid plan for this story since the beginning, I've taken a few twists and turns I hadn't planned of course, but I'm someone who doesn't start writing out with a set plan first. It's the only way I'll really get anything done.  
> So this being a story that was going to have a lot of underlying elements of grieving/guilt/loss. Of course it was my plan since pretty much the plan since the beginning to have Jason play a part at some point. However I purposefully set this during a time where Tim was a very new Robin 1. Because most of my knowledge comes from the animated canon and I haven't sunk my teeth as much into the comics despite the interest being there for many reasons, and 2. So the story wouldn't feel too bloated with too many characters. It's why some of the other batfam members have also been more cameos than anything. This story is from Bruce's perspective mainly, and he's the character that is changing throughout this story. 
> 
> With all that out of the way: I started getting a few comments asking me to include Jason or asking me if he was going to be in it, which most of which were fine, until I got a comment telling me the story would be BETTER if Jason was in it, and explaining the concept of him coming back to life in the comics to me. The rest of this comment, was friendly at least, but admittedly, this kind of ticked me off and I was stewing about it for a while.
> 
> I understand the kind of enthusiasm one can have for their fave, I've totally been there. However, it is not, and never will be okay to pester an author or an artists providing FREE content just because they're passionate about something or have a story to tell, that their story would be BETTER with your fave in it, or try to guilt them or pressure them into including them.
> 
> Because here's the frustrating thing! I knew he was going to start coming up more! In this chapter actually - but I was so annoyed at feeling essentially guilted into including Jason, I considered writing him out all together, even if it didn't make sense. Because now, to me, writing him and making him a part of the story is suddenly tainted to me. It doesn't make me happy, and for ages I was dreading writing this chapter because this was eating at me.
> 
> I wasn't going to say anything until I talked to some friends about it and found out they had ALSO been through experiences where people had guilt-tripped them or tried to force them into drawing or writing their fave, which frankly is just not cool.
> 
> Jason is a fun character, I genuinely like the story and idea around him, but that kind of attitude doesn't make me want to do more with him, it just makes me want to exclude him because I refuse creating content from him to come from a place of feeling obligated or guilted, rather than genuine intention or affection. I don't want to create something from an ugly or heartless place.
> 
> Anyway, that's my little pedestal I had to get up on. I'll get over it as time passes, but please please if your someone who adores Jason, or any other character: Don't push authors and artists to include him or assume they have no intention to. It would have been one thing if I had tagged him and then hadn't included him up to this point even as a passing mention. The character is perfectly capable of standing on their own, and your already getting free content, not to mention there's TONS of other fics and artworks out there of Jason in particular that can quench your need to see more of him.  
> There were plenty of people who had asked for Jason who were asking for him in a very polite and not forceful/guilting way, or were just curious if he was going to pop up.  
>  So just know this is absolutely not directed at you - I appreciate the interest in the story, and I do still appreciate the ruder comments in some way for being engaged enough in the story to want someone they adore included. <3


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